


silent in the trees

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 80's, Based On Firewatch, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Summer 1989. Roy Mustang takes a job as a lookout in a forest in the middle of nowhere to run away from his problems. At the other side of the ravine, there's Edward, a young man in charge of this sector. They spend two months talking through their radios, building a relationships over dumb jokes and late night secrets, until they find out they are not alone.





	silent in the trees

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is almost entirely based off the storyline of the game Firewatch. You don't need to have played/seen it, although I highly recommend it, not to understand what's going on, but simply because it's really good. A lot of the dialogs are either the exact same or very inspired by Henry and Delilah's conversations in the game, because they needed to stay if I wanted to follow the same plot, or just because some lines sounded just like what Roy and Ed could have said to each other and I was too weak to resist. 
> 
> The story takes place in Amestris, and alchemy exists, but I changed a lot of things from the original story to make it fit with what I wanted to do there. Everything is explained at some point, just keep that in mind.
> 
> There's some pretty heavy shit going on at some point, but I didn't want to put anything in the tags to avoid spoiling — it's nothing worse that what you've actually seen in FMA, so if you managed to survive the manga or any of the anime, you're safe.
> 
> I also made a playlist that kind of fits the atmosphere of the story, because I'm _that_ hopelessy dedicated, that you can listen by clicking [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaqoOu1Hw0R2V-YKOp8Dc6QNCx-qpJgnT). It features some 80's tunes and an awful lot of melancholic shit, how surprising coming from me.
> 
> Big thanks to [Dellsey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellsey/pseuds/Dellsey), for giving some useful advice on the first part of this fic despite being super busy, and to [SayNevermore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayNevermore/pseuds/SayNevermore) for correcting everything despite today being her birthday — you're clearly too god for me and I don't deserve either of you.

It's the last steps that are the hardest. It's the ones Roy has to make from the moment he actually sees the tower, standing tall against the background made of dark trees and rocks. All the time he spent hiking condenses into pain in his legs and back, heavier than it has ever felt during those two days, and maybe he really was too old for that shit, after all.

When he does finally reach the cabin, then, it's a relief – his knees still call for help as he's climbing the wooden stairs, but it's worth it. When he does reach the cabin, he's on top of the world. He sees dark, dark blue skies and bright, bright stars, hundreds and hundreds of trees bathed in moonlight, rocks tainted purple by the night, and when he closes his eyes, the air smells like grass and wood, the wind pushes his hair back, cools down the sweat on his forehead.

His back cracks as he makes a move to wipe his face with the back of his hand – the backpack is still heavy on his shoulders, and yeah, he has contemplated enough nature these two days, and he's got the whole summer to enjoy the view when he's not on the verge of falling asleep.

When he turns on the lights, the room turns out to be cosier than it would have expected. It has new furniture, a rug and a decent bed – even though Roy's not hard to please, everything makes a decent bed when you've spent your nights on a military one. It's nothing too fancy, but it's nothing too bad either. Again, Roy's seen worse.

“Hello?”

The voice almost makes him jump. Soon enough, he notices the yellow radio on the table on his left. He takes his bag off his back, grabs the radio, and presses the button.

“Hello?” he says. “Whoever this is?”

“It's Roy, right?” the voice says.

“Yes.” He takes a look at the worktop, next to the sink. There's a cookbook and a forest guide.

“I'm Ed,” the voice says. “Short for Edward.”

“Yes, that's what the man on the phone said,” Roy replies.

“So,” the voice – Ed – says. “What's wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“People take this job to get away from something. So, what's wrong?”

“What's wrong with you?” Roy's voice is too composed, too calm for the sentence to actually sound aggressive despite of the exhaustion, and it's impressive that he manages that in such a state of fatigue, really.

“Calm down, man,” Ed says. “Just askin'.”

“Look,” Roy says, still calm, unbelievably calm, “I just hiked for two days. I'm not really in the mood for this right now. Whatever this is.”

“Alright,” Ed says. “Find what's wrong with me, then.”

So he's a cheeky one. “Can I sleep then? Like, forever?”

“Sure, buddy. Go ahead.”

Roy opens the door, goes back outside – if he has to keep himself awake for five more minutes, he could use some fresh air. “Fine,” Roy says. “You're a rebellious teenager, you can't stand your family anymore. You took this job to escape from them because nobody gets you and you're so misunderstood, and it makes your mom angry, which is exactly what you want.”

“Uuuuh, very good, Roy boy,” Ed says, cheekiness in his voice and a smile in his words. “I'm impressed – would clap my hands if I didn't need one to press the button. You should be a detective.”

“Can I go to sleep now?” Roy asks.

“Not yet. Your turn now.”

“Goodnight.”

“I say...” Ed makes a pause. “You just divorced from your hysterical wife. She won't leave you alone because she says you two still have things to sort out but you don't wanna talk about it, so you escaped in the woods.”

Roy sighs. “Goodnight, Ed.”

“Welcome to the job,” Ed says, and Roy gets back inside.

 

*

 

**DAY 1**

 

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Roy opens his eyes, or tries to, at least – his eyelids are glued to each other by sleep.

“Or afternoon. Evening. Whatever. You probably slept all day. There's still some shit to do, though, so, yeah – call me whenever you're ready.”

When he manages to see something, he sees light, bright and quiet and orange. He sees his arms, still numb when he tries to move his fingers, sees the trees eating the sun through the window when he pushes himself up.

“Hello,” he says when he finally grabs the radio. “Sorry,” he says. “I think I overslept.”

“Yeah, just thirteen or fourteen hours,” Ed says.

That much, then. “Oh.” He looks at his wrist. “Shit, it's almost seven.”

“Don't worry about it,” Ed says. “It would have been scary it you hadn't, actually. That hike kills everyone for a day or two. That said, now that you're up, I can introduce you to the job. See the thing in the middle of the room? With the round map on it.”

Roy turns his head. “Yeah. Right, I see it.”

“This is the Osborne firefinder,” Ed says. “Invented in 1914 by W.B...”

“... Osborne?”

“Right, congrats. You use it to, you know, find the fire – what the _fuck_?”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Look through the window – fucking hell, I can't believe this –”

Roy does as he's told. There's some sparkles of light exploding against the dark orange sky. He crosses the room, and opens the door. This time, he hears the fait noise that accompanies the explosion. “Fireworks?”

“Fucking fireworks,” Ed grunts. “You need to get down there, he says. “That's amazing, wow. How people don't give a fuck about fucking safety. Incredible. Excellent.”

“Is it really my job to do that?” Roy says.

Ed chuckles. “Your job is whatever I say it is. Which is, right now, get the fuck down and make sure they don't do it again. Take their shit, I don't know. Just don't give anyone a knuckle sandwich, I don't wanna have problems.”

Roy looks down the stairs. “Right now?”

“Oh, no,” Ed says. “Take your time. Make yourself some coffee, enjoy the view. It's nothing urgent, just, you know, this whole place that could be set on fire.”

“Ok, ok, got it,” Roy says. “I'm going.”

“You're probably gonna need a rope to get down to the lake,” Ed says. “There's one in the supply box on the way. Code's 1-2-3-4, same for all of them.”

“Wow, secure.”

“Shut up.”

Roy smiles.

He empties his bag on the floor, keeps what he needs to – that being a bottle of water, a map, and a book, because you never know – and gets down the stairs. When his feet touch the ground, he pauses for a second. The view is far more pleasant when you're actually _awake_. As he starts walking, he can feel the light, almost imperceptible brush of the wind on his legs, the late afternoon sun rays reaching his arms and his face. As he inhales, he realizes he smells like sleep, and his hair is greasy, and shit, he probably should have changed before leaving the tower. Ed mentioned a lake, anyway – he could always get some fresh water over his face when he gets there.

The feeling filthy situation aside, it's nice getting out. There's not a soul for miles around, besides Ed, and probably a bunch of kids playing with matches down the lake – there's nothing besides the trees and the grass and the smell of earth, nothing besides a bird singing once in a while and fallen leaves crisping under his shoes.

“How's it going?” Ed asks as Roy plunges into deeper woods. “Found the box?”

Roy jumps over a trunk obstructing the way. “Not yet,” he says.

“You won't need to look at the map,” Ed says. “It should be right in front of you when you've entered the woods.”

Roy looks up. There's a yellow box standing in an empty area, next to a big rock that would probably make a good spot for a picnic. “Found it,” he says.

“Good to know you're able to walk two minutes without getting lost.”

“I used to be a boy scout.”

“What a man.”

In the box, there's a map similar to the one he now owns, a little paper with the words “have a nice day” on it, and, indeed, the thing he was looking for. “Got the rope,” he tells Ed as he takes it to attach it to his belt.

At some point, he reaches a spot where the woods are less dense. There's less trees, more sky to look at, and holy shit – from there, the whole forest below seems to never end.

“Wow,” he says in the radio. “The view is incredible.”

“I know right?” There's a trace of barely hidden excitement in Ed’s voice, and that makes Roy smile. “You should see what I see. From where I am, it's even more stunning. Haven't found a better spot to watch over this place yet – which is, you know, kinda the point, but yeah.” Roy almost stumbles on a little rock because he's too busy _watching_. “If you're good, maybe you can come and see that yourself at the end of the summer.”

Roy smiles again, and watches where he's going. Which is a good thing, because if he hadn't, he probably would have broken his neck by stepping in the void – there's a shale slide, steep, so steep it's vertical. He ties his rope to a carabineer that's tied on a rock facing the slope and throws it.

It's pretty easy to get down, mostly because he's been through way worse than that – four years of military school and seven spent fighting – killing, killing, _killing_ – on an arid land tend to get you used to extreme situations. And some people – some people he knew, and some he never could have – have been through way worse than _him._ He's climbed hills and rocks and buildings, he's walked through fire and held his breath a thousand times, but some people have fallen, some people have burnt, some people have drowned.

He tells himself he should stop thinking just in time for the rope to fucking _break_.

There's a short moment where Roy doesn't see anything but black, doesn't hear anything but an ear-splitting sound. It starts to faint as he opens his eyes, and good, that's good, he sees – the slope, the rocks, the radio next to him, his left arm that he doesn't feel right away, _great_. It takes him a little while to get up, because his head hurts and it still takes a while for the strident noise to go away, but then he's on his feet. His hands are scraped, tiny rocks digging holes into his palms, and his back is in pieces, but he's on his feet.

“Still alive?”

Ed knows how to choose his moments. “Me, yes,” Roy says. “My back, however, might be dead. Need to check.”

Ed laughs into the radio. The little fucker. “Jesus,” he says. “Are you _that_ old? Do you need to take a break? A little nap? Too bad there are no rocking chairs in the forest.”

“I'm not _old_ ,” Roy says. “The rope, on the other hand, must have been a hundred years old, because it just – broke.” He looks up. The end of the rope seems to be seven feet above, maybe – no wonder he doesn't feel his bones anymore. Thankfully, there's nothing that could have broken in the backpack.

“Holy shit,” Ed says. “Are you alright?”

“Like I said, it could be better.” Walking is a little bit painful, but the high grass is soft where it tickles his calves.

“You know,” Ed says, “maybe it broke because you were too heavy.”

Roy almost stops. “You little shit.”

“A shit, that I am. But don't you dare call me little.”

“ _Little shit_.”

“You really wanna get down that path, old man?”

“No, thanks. Got down enough dangerous ones for today.”

Ed grins – Roy can _hear_ it. “Smartass.”

He gets to a vast low-land, all wide and luminous. Two rocks are standing in the middle, the good size to sit on, and one, two, ten empty cans of beer are have been dragged around. “I think I'm getting closer to our pyrotechnicians,” he says.

“Try getting down the lake,” Ed says. “Keep heading West.”

And as Roy keeps walking, he finds other cans of beer, empty or full, and a bottle of Yamazaki whiskey. “These kids have trashed the entire place,” Roy says. “Cans everywhere.” He doesn't mention the whiskey. He keeps it in his hand for a moment before he decides to put the backpack down and shove the bottle in it. His aunt Chris would kill him if she saw him go – she wouldn't kill him by chiding him and grounding him and all these things she would do that would scare him off when he was a kid. She would kill him with her eyes, because that's what she does, now, that's what she's been doing since she sees him as an adult, and that's worse. It's no longer anger he sees in her eyes – it's disappointment, and that's way, way worse. She doesn't say anything, Chris, not anymore, because he's old enough to care of his own ass, her words. She doesn't say, but she knows, Chris. She knows.

“Jeez,” Ed sighs. “Any way you can clean all that up? Later, I mean. When you've scolded these little fucks.”

“Still not my job,” Roy says, “but nature is my friend, so I can be nice this time.”

“Good boy,” Ed says.

There's more grass, and there's more rocks, including a big, big one forming a peak above Roy's head, and the more he goes, the more trash he finds. He also finds a pile of burning wood. “Oh, look,” he says. “Apparently they decided to make a campfire too.”

“I'm gonna stop asking myself questions from now,” Ed says. “No matter wondering what comes into peoples' minds if they're just fucking stupid, right?”

Did they tell Ed who he was? Did they tell him he could set the whole forest, from the roots of the grass to the peak of the trees, just by snapping his fingers? And he doesn't have his gloves on, no – this is not a war, but he keeps them in his pocket just in case because the war's still in his bones, and he still knows the formula, still knows the circle – “Right.” Splayed on another rock nearing the campfire, there are clothes, mostly black ones – two pair of shorts and a pair of jeans, three shirts that seem too short to cover anything at all, three identical leather jackets that have _HOMONCULUS_ written in red on their back, just above a design that kind of looks like a snake. “It seems like they've let their clothes out to dry,” he says. “Looks like there's three people.”

“They must definitely be at the lake,” Ed says. “Not surprising. It's an excellent time of the year to have a swim here.”

“Well, according to the beers everywhere and the fireworks, I don't think their focus is on swimming.”

“Which is why you're gonna keep heading to the lake and tell 'em off.”

“Right.” He steps onto something unusual. “Oh,” he says.

“What?”

He takes the item in his hand. “I found a bra,” he says.

“Are you sure you'll manage to remain professional?” Ed says.

“And the panties that match,” Roy says a few feet later.

Ed's laughing again. “Wait, there are what?”

“I don't want to say it again.”

“Why, 'cause you're twelve?”

Roy gets a thin branch out of the way. “Thirty-six, but you were close,” he says.

“Oh, so you really are old,” Ed says.

“How old are _you_?” Roy says. He can hear the water, now. And some music. And voices.

“That's classified,” Ed says.

Roy sighs. “Of course it is,” he says. “Because you're actually secretly working for secret services.”

“Precisely,” Ed says.

And there are two pairs of boxers on the ground. _Of course_. “Other pieces of underwear found,” he reports Ed.

“And?” Ed says.

“And that means there's three naked people over there.”

“Can you handle that?” Ed's tone is exaggerated, fake outraged.

“Come on, it's like – nothing I've never seen, alright, it's just that they could be –” God, he's never going to tell Maes about this. He'd never stop laughing about it; he would remind him of it on his death bed. “Doing things,” he says, and it's a sigh, because he didn't sign for that kind of bullshit.

“Oh my god, Roy,” Ed says. “You do have some pretty wild imagination, huh? You dirty fucker.”

“Come on,” he says, and wow, that repartee, congratulations, Roy, ten out of ten. “I'd just – rather not step on a scene I wasn't meant to assist to.”

“Man,” Ed says. “I saw another firework like, one minute ago, and I'm pretty sure you saw it too – I'm all about living dangerously and all that shit, but as fucked up as these kids might be, I don't think they're lighting explosive while having a wild threesome. They're just fucking naked, ok? So try to keep your tongue up off the ground and do your job.”

“Not my job,” Roy protests.

Ed doesn't answer.

The brat.

Answer or not, though, Roy finally gets to the lake. It's a bit hard to look at, at first, because the sun hasn't gone down behind the trees yet, and it's a little bit blinding to look at a mirror of pure light. When his eyes finally adjust, they see the darker spots – the three figures standing on a rock down the lake. The backlighting only shows their silhouette and _nothing else_ , thanks God – that's a thing he won't have to deal with. “Hey!” He still can see the three of them turning around when they hear him, though. “Cut the fireworks shit, or you're gonna have problems, alright?” he says.

“Don't threaten us!” a voice says.

“Who're you anyway, you asshole?” another voice says.

Roy notices the radio set on the ground. _Everybody Wants To Rule The World_ is playing. He takes the stereo in his hand.

“HEY! Put that down!” First Voice shouts. “That shit's expensive!”

“Cool it with the fireworks,” Roy says.

“Ok, fine, you dick!” First Voice says.

“You probably have a tiny cock!” Second Voice says.

Roy throws the stereo in the water. It's a shame, really – it was a good song.

“You – motherfucker!” First Voice says. “I'm gonna cut you, you bitch!” The individual jumps off the rock. The water barely reaches his knees, which means he moves fast enough to get really close really quick, which means Roy is standing six feet away from a furious, unclothed teenager. He doesn't even think of pulling out his gloves, or clenching his fists, or anything in case this goes bad, because the whole situation is so _ridiculous_ –

“Envy, come back here,” a woman's voice says.

First voice – _Envy,_ what kind of a damn name is this – stops and turns his head back. Roy tries not to look at his genitals, but doesn't want to look too far away, just in case. His eyes wander through long, dark hair that's wet at the ends, leather bracelets at each wrist, a bright red tattoo on a thigh. “It's not _your_ fucking stereo that's been fucking thrown in the fucking water!” Envy yells.

“It's not worth it,” the woman says as she comes closer, close enough for her to touch her friend's shoulder and for Roy to see her. She's got the exact same tattoo as her friend just above her breasts, and Roy just recalls the jackets he saw – it's the same snake, the same red. He looks just long enough to notice, then turns his gaze, because he's still a gentleman, and he's not going to stare at a stranger's bare chest for longer, so he looks at her face, instead. She's all long lashes and curly hair and dark lips, smiling in a way that makes her look like she would eat anyone up – not only the metaphorical way. “Let it go, alright?” she says, her voice like velvet. “Let's go to the other side of the lake to swim a bit. The water's still warm. It would be scandalous not to enjoy it.”

Envy's brows are still furrowed, his limbs are tense, ready to jump like an animal.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” shouts the boy who's still on the rock, a splashing sound following his words as Roy sees him getting in the water too. “Just let him smash the guy!” And God, Roy is _really_ never going to tell Maes about this. A gang of three nudist teenagers trying to deal with each other while proudly showing off their genitals is the kind of story that would haunt him forever. He shouldn't have thrown that stereo – that was a shitty idea, he should have known better. Kids these days don't run away. Kids these days come to your face with the intention to smash it, whether they're wearing underwear or not.

God, he's old. Ed was right – not that he would ever tell him that.

“We're on a holiday,” the woman tells the other – he's a taller guy than Envy, with shorter hair and broader shoulders. His arms are crossed on his chest, and Roy can see the same tattoo, again, on his hand, and yeah, it's definitely a gang thing, right. “It's supposed to be relaxing,” the woman says. “We're not _smashing_ anyone this time.” Roy doesn't want to know what _this time_ implies about their usual activities. “Let's go, alright En?”

Envy takes a few seconds to consider it, almost says something, and finally, releases the tension in his shoulders, looks away from Roy, and turns around.

“You're no fucking fun,” the last boy tells the girl as they're leaving. Roy isn't watching them anymore, because he's had enough of naked teenage strangers for today. He's found a great interest in the rocks next to him, however. “Holidays are supposed to be fun. Where's the fun if there's no fight?”

“Honestly, Greed, if you were looking for a fight, you shouldn't have come there,” the girl says.

“I'm gonna fight the fucking squirrels, then,” Greed – _Greed_ , what the _heck_ – says.

“Oh, yes!” Envy says. “We're gonna fucking _hunt_ like warriors!”

Roy doesn't really listen to what's been said after that, because their voices are starting to fade behind the sound of splashing water, and Ed's voice comes out of the radio a few seconds later anyway.

“Everything alright over there?” he says.

“I have – no idea what just happened,” Roy says. “But they said they wouldn't do it again. So, yes, I guess it's alright.”

“Jeez,” Ed says. “Well, that's good news – good, yeah. Thanks for going down there.” _Everybody Wants To Rule The World_ is stuck in Roy's head now, and it's not leaving soon. “What exactly happened, though? If you don't mind me asking. Just, you know – making sure you didn't murder them or something.”

“I didn't murder anyone,” Roy says. That's the biggest lie he's ever said. “They could have murdered _me_ , though, apparently, since they seem to be some kind of delinquent teenage gang.”

“You're shitting me,” Ed says.

“You would come up to the same conclusion if you had seen three kids with the same vaguely threatening logo on their jackets and tattooed on each one of them,” Roy says, “and if you had heard them call themselves _Envy_ and _Greed_.”

“Oh my god,” Ed says. “That's so fucking – incredibly pretentious. Are you sure they weren't just part of some punk band?”

Roy gets around the lake to follow the path. The three kids are out of sight. “Isn't that kind of the same thing?” Roy asks.

“See,” Ed says. “That's the exact kind of stuff that makes you sound so fucking old.”

“Oh, shut up,” Roy says. He climbs on a slope about as steep as the one he took while coming here, but it's barely taller than him. No risk that he'll break his back, this time.

“Sorry, I don't take orders,” Ed says. “Since, you know, I'm your boss and shit.”

“Unfortunately,” Roy grunts.

And he keeps walking.

 

*

 

It's only later, when the night has come and Roy is going from one rock to another, that Ed speaks again.

“Hey, Roy,” he says. “Still here?”

Roy takes the radio from his belt. “Yes,” he says. “On my way back to the tower.”

“Right,” Ed says. “I just wanted to –” Roy can hear him sighing. “Uh, I was – drunk, last night. When I welcomed you to the job. That's not something I do on a regular basis, like, I was just bored, and that's not an excuse because it was, like, completely un-fucking-professional – and, uh, yeah, I just wanted to – apologize.”

 _I can't blame you when I stole an entire bottle of booze from a bunch of teenagers with the clear intention to get myself blind drunk tonight_ seems a little inappropriate to say to someone you've met the night before. “It's fine,” he says instead.

“I know I can be a bit of a dick,” Ed says. “I had no right to push you like that. So, yeah. I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Roy says.

“Won't happen again,” Ed says. “Anyway – let me know when you get back to your lookout.”

Roy is about to answer when a blinding light appears just in front of him. He keeps his eyes half-closed for a good while until the light shuts – when his vision has gone back to normal, Roy can see a man standing on the little cliff above. He doesn't move, and neither does Roy. It takes him a good handful of seconds, a minute maybe, to push on the radio button. “There's someone here giving me the creeps,” he tells Ed, and at the second he's finished his sentence, the man is gone.

“The creeps?”

Roy keeps his eyes on the top of the cliff a little longer. The man doesn't come back. Roy starts walking again. “He was standing alone a few feet in front of me, just – watching,” he says.

“What, he was just watching you?” Ed says. “Nothing else?”

“I... don't think so?”

Roy gets to the top of the cliff. Sill nothing to be seen except the sky – the sun is so low now that only an orange aura from behind the trees can prove it's still there, the rest of the sky already a deep purple-blue. “Roy,” Ed says. “There's something someone should have told you about this place.”

“What is it?” Roy says.

“It's...” Ed makes a dramatic pause, the fucker – “outside,” he says.

“Come on,” Roy sighs.

Ed keeps going. “The whole thing,” he says. “And people come and go as they please, it's madness.”

“You know, two minutes ago, I was starting to think you were actually nice, but I think I'm going to reconsider that statement.”

Ed chuckles. “Shut up, bastard. You adore me.”

Roy smiles.

 

*

 

When Roy gets at the top of the tower, there's a hole in one of the windows and another one that's been wrecked out of its hinges.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mutters to himself. He takes the radio. “Ed?” he says as he pushes the button.

“What?” Ed answers almost instantly.

“Someone broke in,” Roy says.

“ _What_?” Ed says, just as fast as the first time.

“The place is trashed,” Roy grunts as he looks around. The chair has fallen, the lamp lies on the table, his books are all over the floor as well as his clothes ; there's even a can of beans that's been spilled on the floor. “I don't think they stole anything,” Roy says. “They just – fucking wrecked everything.”

“Holy fuck,” Ed says. “Why would anyone do that?”

Roy looks at the bed. “Shit,” he says. “They did steal something.”

“What did they take?”

“My goddamn sheets.”

“ _What_? That fucking sucks – why would anyone do that?” One of the books has been given to him by Maes before he left. _So you have something long to read if you get too bored of watching over trees_ , he said. Roy hopes it's not too damaged. He bends over to pick it up and gently puts it on the table – he'll check it later. He still hasn't turned any light on. “So they really were, like, a gang,” Ed says. “The kids from the lake.”

Roy sits on the bed. “You think it's them?” he says.

“I don't know,” Ed says. “It could be anyone, I guess – that's not something that's actually happened before.”

“Great.”

“Do you want me to call anyone?” Ed asks. “I need you to feel safe out here.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Oh, you can protect yourself, huh?”

 _Oh, yes, I can_ . _I can destroy and anyone and anything just by snapping my fingers, I could set this whole area on fire without even moving my feet, and I can't sleep because of that_. “Just don't worry about it,” Roy says.

“Perfect,” Ed says. “Keep that attitude up and you'll have an excellent summer.”

 

*

 

It's around ten when Ed speaks again. Roy just finished cleaning up the spilled beans – _literal_ spilled beans – and pretty much everything else. His hands are on the window, trying to hang the second picture he took with him with a piece of tape he found in one of the drawers that hadn't been flipped over. It's a picture of him and Maes from their academy years, taken by Chris, who had practically yelled at him for a good ten minutes until he was standing right and his hair wasn't in his face anymore. The other picture has him at the age of eight, two years after his parents died, and Chris herself, younger than he could ever remember, smiling a surprisingly soft smile.

“Hey,” Ed says. “Still up?”

Roy picks up. “I slept fourteen hours,” he says. “I'm not going to get any sleep until three in the morning.”

“Good,” Ed says. “Because I have someone on the phone for you. Hold on, I'll hand you over to her.”

Roy waits two seconds. “Hello, Sir,” says Riza's voice.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Roy says. “Something's wrong?”

“No,” Riza says. “Just making sure you're still alive.”

“Oh.”

“How are you doing?”

Roy looks at the window. It's a shame he doesn't have any picture with Riza besides the ones that are in the papers – and those ones he doesn't keep, because he doesn't want to remember why they were taken, which titles were put in big letters on the first page for the whole country to read the horrors they'd done and praise them for it. “Fine,” Roy says. “It's – stunning, here.”

“I know it is,” Riza says. “My father and I would go hiking there when I was young. I have very good memories of these days.”

“You never told me about that,” Roy says.

“I'm telling you now,” Riza says. There's something – a sweetness in her voice he only hears when they're talking alone. “Edward seems nice.”

“He's a brat,” Roy says.

“You have a lot in common, then.” Roy smiles faintly. “I'll leave you now,” Riza says. “Try not to sleep too late.”

“I'll do my best.” He looks at the bottle on the table. It's a blatant lie, and Riza knows it. She says nothing. “Good night, Riza.”

“Good night, Roy.”

 

*

 

In the end, he falls asleep around one, after two glasses of Yamazaki. He drinks another one when he wakes up in the middle of the night after seeing a whole village burn behind his eyelids, because he doesn't manage to go back to sleep after that.

 

*

 

**DAY 2**

 

He wakes up in his sheetless bed with a headache and the feeling of his heart compressing in his chest. The sun is still low on the sky, and the air that seeps in by the hole in the window is fresh, cold almost.

Roy gets up. It's not like he's going to get any more sleep anyway. He looks at the bottle on the floor. He's not going to drink – not yet. For now, he's alright – for now, he's going to do things like he should do them.

So Roy gets up, picks up the bottle on the floor and puts it away. He gets down the tower to use the bathroom, turns the stove on to boil some water and makes himself some coffee, prepares two sandwiches with the jam Hughes gave him before he left – Gracia is a Saint that turns every piece of food she touches into gold, and the goddamn jam is no exception. He watches the sun rise slowly, starts to read a book while the sun is rising. He takes it easy. This is a leave – in the form of a job, yes, but still, a leave – and he's supposed to get rest, he's supposed to take care of himself, he's supposed to get _better_ . He tells himself _relax, relax, relax,_ he tells himself _Riza would be proud of you, just relax._

“Hey, wake up,” Ed's blurred voice says. “Wake up!” he says again before Roy can pick up the radio.

“I'm awake, I'm awake,” Roy says as he picks up. “What's your problem?”

“ _Our_ problem,” Ed says. “That night's storm knocked up the phone line I use to talk to the service, which means we're cut off. I tried radioing out and it's not working either.”

Roy puts his mug on the table in front of him. “Oh,” Roy says. “That's a problem, indeed.”

“Yeah, you're telling me,” Ed says. “The easiest way to sort this out would be for you to go check the status of the wires – it's a good hike away, but you should manage to go there and back again before sunset if you leave soon. If you find out that something's wrong there, I can send someone to fix it.”

“Ok, I can do that,” Roy says, and that's good. That's good, walking – it's good. Clears the mind, wakes you up, helps you breathe. That's good.

Ed gives him the instructions, and when Roy's finished his coffee, he fills the bottle with water, puts it in his bag, and gets out, a map in his hand.

He would never have thought the mornings would be so cold, here. It's different that the type of cold they have in Central, though – in Central, the cold is almost always accompanied by pale grey clouds and rain. In Central, the cold feels like a dog biting your leg, like an old, unpleasant memory whispering things you'd rather not hear. This is different – this is bright cold, luminescent morning freshness.

Just like the day before, Roy walks between rocks and trees in silence. The place doesn't look the same – green where it was orange, haze where the ground was warm.

“So,” Ed says. “Who was that lady on the phone? If you don't mind me asking – I don't mean to intrude or shit, just – doing conversation.”

The cave is barely a real cave, apparently, just a really short tunnel, and it only takes him a few steps to get out. “I don't mind, don't worry,” Roy says. “She is – a friend. And a colleague.”

“Oh, alright,” Ed says. “So, they told me you came from Central. What did you do up there?”

 _Conversation_ . This is not an interrogatory, and Roy has to stop his breath from _stopping_ all the time. “Military,” he says.

“Oh,” Ed says before making a pause. Roy breathes – he can see fog forming at the exit of his mouth.

“I was in Ishval before going to Central,” he says, because it will be easier to say now that later. “In case you were wondering.” And of course he was.

“Oh,” Ed says. “Are you Roy Mustang? Like, Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang?”

Roy freezes for one second, just one second. “Yes,” he says.

And he should have said something else, should have said he worked in a bakery, or a bank, or anything that didn't involve killing civilians, before Ed could see him as what the medias called _The Hero of Ishval_ , before Ed could imagine his face from the scraps he'd seen on paper or on screen and tell himself his eyes screamed _murder_. He should have said that no, he wasn't this Roy, that Roy Mustang is a despicable being, he should have faked being offended that Ed could affiliate him to such a horrible man. “Well, I know what you look like now,” Ed says after a long, long silence, and he says nothing else.

Roy's legs hurt. His whole body does. “And I still don't know what _you_ look like,” he says, his voice collected. He's become a master at this. “That's a bit unfair, may I say.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Ed says, a smirk in his tone. Roy waits for it – something about Ishval, about him. Nothing comes.

“Are you insinuating I'm not a good thing?” Roy says.

“Ain't insinuating shit,” Ed says. “Right, where are you now?”

“Just came out from the small cave, the –” Roy looks down his map. “The _Thunder Cave_?”

“I didn't come up with that name,” Ed says.

“Honestly, the opposite wouldn't have surprised me,” Roy says. “Although it sounds a little bit too discreet. _The Fucking Thunder Cave of Doom_ would have sounded more like you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ed spits. “And move your ass, you old man. I would have made twice the distance you just walked by now if I was at your place.”

Roy puts the radio on the rock he has to climb before answering. “Didn't they teach you to respect your elders wherever you come from?” he says once he's on the top, wiping his dusty hand against his shirt as he keeps walking. “Where are you from, by the way?” he asks. “Now that we're at it. For – conversation.”

“Resembool,” Ed answers with a tone that kind of sounds – dull? He says nothing else for a while, and then calls Roy back to tell him about a silly story he read in the news the other day.

Roy keeps walking.

 

*

 

Eventually, he gets to his destination. When he does, whether it's the air that's gotten warmer or his muscles or both, but he's sweating.

The stake is standing at the very peak of the cliff, drawing a straight line in the blue sky. When he approaches, Roy can see that a piece of paper has been taped to it, but he still can't see what's written on it. What he can see, though, are the empty cans of beer at the bottom of the tower, and the cable hanging along it.

“Hey,” he says in the radio. “The wire is definitely out of order,” he continues.

“That's actually good to hear,” Ed says after a few seconds. “I can send someone to fix it. Good find.”

Roy keeps walking towards the stake. He takes the paper in his hand. “Someone cut it,” he says as he reads what's written.

“What?”

“A note's been left,” Roy states. “As well as cans of beer the same brand that I found around the lake yesterday.”

“Fuck, I knew it,” Ed curses. “I fucking knew it! Don't these goddamn idiots know this is how people die? I mean – what if something happened to one of the lookouts of there? Or if there was, I don't know, a _fucking fire_?”

Roy is still holding the paper in his hand. “What can we do?”

“I don't know,” Ed says. “We can – you go find them.”

Roy glances at the woods. Where he is, on the top of that big, big rock, it seems like he's on top of everything. “And then? What do I do?”

“I don't know,” Ed says again. “Haven't thought of anything that isn't illegal. Not that anyone could hear them scream out there. These woods are pretty dense.”

“I'm starting to get scared of what this conversation is becoming.”

“I want you to find them,” Ed says. “Scare the shit out of them.”

He remembers how to go to the lake, assuming the teens haven't moved their things from there. It's alright, he can walk – if he had been scared by a long hike, he wouldn't have taken that jig. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don't know, man, use your imagination,” Ed says. “I'm sure you have plenty.”

“I must admit that I've never been in a confrontation with a gang of angry punk teenagers before,” Roy says. “Pardon me if I lack experience on this matter.”

“Learn on the job. I'm sure you'll do good.” And then, Roy starts walking again. “What did the note say, by the way?” Ed asks.

Roy still has it in his hand, God knows why. “ _Don't fuck with the homonculi_ ,” Roy reads. “With their – logo, I guess, on the bottom.”

He can hear a sigh at the end of the line. “What a bunch of ridiculous motherfuckers,” Ed drones.

 

*

 

Later, Roy looks up to a backpack hanged to a tree. Because he's been a good boy scout, and also because he's one curious man, he manages to get it down to open it.

“I just found an abandoned bag full of ropes hanged to a tree,” Roy says in the radio, getting the ropes out and his bag off his back.

“You're a lucky fucker” Ed says.

“There are enough of them for me to not worry about getting them back once I've climbed down.” Roy fastens the single rope he hasn't stuffed in his own bag to the carabineer. “Thanks Nina Tucker,” he says.

“Wait – who?”

He has to wait until he's down the slope to answer. “The bag had a name on it. Nina Tucker. You know her?”

“Yeah, I just – haven't heard that name in a while.”

Roy leaves the rope there and keeps walking. “Ex-girlfriend?” he asks. He doesn't know why, but the name of Nina Tucker rings a bell.

“Oh, yeah,” Ed says. “She would always get all steamy around me. Of course, she was like, ten, so our love could never be understood.”

“You disgust me,” Roy spits.

 

*

 

It appears that like they had thought, the “Homonculi” haven't moved from the lake zone – better than that, Roy's been able to reach their camp by following a column of smoke. “Alright, they're really fucking stupid,” Ed said.

When he reaches the place, it's even more of a wreck than yesterday – more beers, porn magazines, empty chips bags all over the place, and his sheets.

“So,” Ed says. “Are you sure it's them?”

“I found my sheets,” Roy says as he takes his bag off his back and grabs the sheets. “So either is them, either we have two gangs of rebellious kids that are determined to make my life a living hell.”

“You're such a drama queen,” Ed sighs.

Roy looks around him. “I recognize the brand on their pack of beers, though. It better be them, or we have two gangs of rebellious kids that are determined to make my life a living hell _and_ like the same beers.”

Ed laughs. “The papers were real, Mustang,” he says. “You really have a way with words.”

Roy raises an eyebrow. He takes the radio back in his hand once he's done stuffing his sheets into the bag. “They say _that_ in the newspapers?”

“Yes,” Ed answers. “They also say that _behind his soft voice, as soft as wild honey, and his always sophisticated but yet sober looks, it seems like the Hero of Ishval may hide a dark history.”_

Roy almost chokes. And then, he almost says _as if burning villages full of civilians wasn't enough of a dark history_. “They give you women's magazines?” is what he goes for instead. “Funny. I'd never have thought you enjoyed tabloids.”

“I don't,” Ed says. “And they give me most of the newspapers that they get, because that's what I told them to do. You gotta keep yourself from getting bored when you stay in that tower all day long, y'know. _Colonel Handsome_.”

“Oh my God,” Roy mutters.

“This must have been written by Intern Jeanine, nineteen years old, because the actual journalist that was supposed to take care of the article was ill and they panicked. That's the only solution.”

“Well, Intern Jeanine certainly didn't do a good job at documenting my person, because I hardly make any public appearance outside of my uniform.”

“Mh... Maybe Jeanine followed you on your way to the grocery store,” Ed theorizes. “Maybe she goes to the same bars, to the same bank, to the same doctor, and you never noticed because she wears a different disguise every time. She thrift shops every week-end for a new costume, gets wigs from her friend who works as a stripper. And she takes note of every move you make.”

“That's quite specific,” Roy states. “Where do you get all these ideas from?”

“Thrillers are the only novels I enjoy reading,” Ed says.

“But you enjoy women's press. That's good to know.”

“I don't fucking _enjoy_ it,” Ed spits. “It passes the time.”

Roy grins. “Sure.”

He looks around him. There's no one to be seen or heard, and except if they're hiding in the trees to jump on Roy when there's an opportunity, Envy, Greed and the girl must have gone for a walk – or to the lake, perhaps, even though Roy doesn't hear anything from here. What he can see, though, is the tent, or what's left of it.

“The tent is shredded,” Roy says.

“Oh, shit,” Ed says. “You think it could be a bear, maybe?”

“I don't know, you're the one who knows these woods,” Roy replies. There's a paper taped to a part of fabric that's not been torn into pieces. “I think they're alright, though,” he says as he grabs it. “I found a note. With the logo on it. Again.”

“Oh, God,” Ed sighs. “They never stop, do they?”

 _Dear Asshole,_ the note says. _THAT'S IT. We're LEAVING. Me and Greed wanted to wait for you to WRECK YOUR FUCKING FACE RIGHT HERE but as Lust said, this is a FUCKING HOLIDAY and we don't want to waste our time dealing with DICKHEADS like YOU. Thanks for ruining the radio, destroying our tent and STEALING OUR FUCKING UNDERWEAR? I CAN'T BELIEVE, YOU GROSS FUCK. Anyway, BRACE YOUR FUCKING ASS if we ever meet again, because we will make you CHOKE ON YOUR OWN DICK. I hope it was worth being a JERK over some fireworks. BASTARD._

“So what does it say?” Ed asks, impatient.

“That I'm an asshole, mostly,” Roy replies. “And a dickhead. And a gross fuck. And a bastard.”

Ed chuckles. “Jeez, I think it's the first time I hear you swearing?” Ed says. “It sounds so weird.”

“They also think I'm the one that destroyed the tent,” Roy says. “And – stole their underwear.”

“ _What_?” Ed chokes. “Did you?”

“Of course not,” Roy barks. “Who do you think I am?”

“'dunno, man,” Ed says. “I've known you for two days.” He's not wrong. “So it's not a bear,” Ed states. “Seems like they pissed someone off enough for them to rip off their tent and – steal their underwear, right. That's not surprising. The kids were pains in the ass anyway, yeah?”

Roy sighs. “Yes,” he says. “But if they did argue with someone else, why do they think it's me?”

“What makes _you_ think they think it's you?”

“They mentioned the fireworks.”

“Uh.” Ed pauses. “Weird stuff happens in the woods.”

“Aren't you worried over the fact that someone just attacked a bunch of teenagers?” Roy asks.

They let an entire pack of beers here, he realizes – the rich kids. “Don't freak out,” he says. “It could be other campers, or a bad mushroom trip, or both. Maybe they had a fight with someone or they did that themselves, and they were too wasted to remember any of it in both scenarios. We don't know. It's not like they're gonna call the police or anything anyway – you said they were thugs, right? Not the kind to report a ripped tent and stolen panties to the authorities.”

Nobody's going to take these beers.

He puts them in this bag.

“Sure,” Roy says. “They're more of the kind to –” he reads the words again – “make me _choke on my own dick_.”

Ed chuckles again. “Man, they got some nerve,” he says. “C'mon, I'm sure the Flame Alchemist can defend himself against a bunch of angry kids. Whether there are cock eating threats or not.”

Roy considers _I'm not usually against the cock eating part if I'm in the right_ _circumstances_ as an answer. He remembers he's known Ed for two days. “Yes,” is what he goes for instead. “You want something funny?” Roy asks. Ed waits for it. “In the letter, they mentioned that the girl was called Lust.”

This time, Ed bursts out laughter. “Fucking hell,” he says.

 

*

 

“So,” Roy says, hours later, as he's heading back to his tower. “Can you tell me who that Nina Tucker little girl really was?” Roy asks.

It takes a little time for Ed to answer. “She was there with her dad and her dog last year,” he explains. “They were staying at your tower. She was a great kid – really smart and kind and shit. She promised me that when the summer would be over, she would take me at her place so we could play with her dog and I could see her father's huge library since I loved science so much and he had like, a ton of books about a ton of stuff, apparently.”

“They let kids come here?” Roy asks.

“Hm, no? But hey, I'm not a sticker for rules.”

“That, surprisingly, doesn't surprise me at all,” he says.

“Anyway, they left in the middle of the summer,” Ed continues, ignoring him.

“Why?” Roy asks.

“I don't know,” Ed says. “I never really talked with the Shou guy. Most of the time he'd let his daughter report me things for him, because it made her feel all grown-up and shit. I just know that one day they were gone. No goodbyes. I had the tower checked, just in case, but their stuff was gone too, which means they haven't gone missing, they just – left. Sucks.”

Roy's brain clicks a few seconds later. “Wait,” he says. “You said her father's name was Shou?”

“Yeah,” Ed answers. “Why?”

“Shou Tucker was a renowned state alchemist,” Roy says. “He's known for transmutating the first – and last – talking chimera. You've never heard of him?”

“No, why?”

“He and his daughter went missing last august. They went on a holiday and no one saw them again.”

“Oh.” A pause follows. “Oh, shit,” Ed says. “Fuck,” he says. “How did I not know that?”

Roy doesn't answer to that. “Tucker was supposed to take an exam after his summer break,” he tells Ed. “There's an evaluation each state alchemist has to take every two years to prove that we are not letting ourselves go. What was asked of him was to recreate one of those talking chimeras. There were rumors about Tucker struggling with his works and failing to recreate what once caused his fame. When he left to come here with his daughter, people said it would do him good to take some fresh air, and when they didn't come back, they said they had probably left the country because Tucker couldn't stand the humiliation.”

“Oh,” Ed says, quieter this time.

“That being said,” Roy continues. “They're probably safe, somewhere where he doesn't want them to be found. Don't worry.”

Roy gets to the tower. He climbs the stairs. “Okay,” Ed says after a few seconds of silence, and there's still – worry, there's still concern in his voice. “Yeah, you're right,” he says after a while. “Usually, if something happens, there's evidence. I mean, a forest is usually not the default choice for a serial killer to act, and if someone's attacked by a bear, I doubt it takes the time to hide the body with its big-ass paws.”

“You seem to know a lot on that matter,” Roy says.

“I damn hope I do,” Ed claims. “It's been three summers I work here.”

“I was talking about the serial killers,” he says.

“Ah,” Ed says. “Like I said, thrillers are the only novels I enjoy reading.”

 

*

 

**DAY 3**

 

That day, Roy wakes up early again and decides he's going to keep up with the good habits. He makes himself a cup of coffee, hides the Yamazaki bottle under the sink so he doesn't see it, gets down to get some wooden boards for the broken window. He takes a hammer and nails and gets to work – it's a forest, anyway. There's no one around to be disturbed by the noise.

Later in the day, he asks Ed what is his job going to be. “Your job is to sit in that tower and call me whenever you see some smoke,” he says. “Thrilling, I know.”

It's a funny thing, really, that's he's watching over to prevent any risk of fire when all he's ever been able to do is burn.

 

*

 

**DAY 12**

 

“Roy,” he distantly hears, the sound faint and the voice buzzing in his head like a dream. Maybe this is a dream. He's sleeping, right? He's sleeping. “Roy, wake up.”

Roy opens his eyes. He's awake quickly, always adjusts in a few seconds. He's used to waking up in the middle of the night, used to get on his feet and go for a drink, for a walk, for a movie, for anything.

He gets up. “I'm awake,” he says once he's gotten the radio.

“Good,” Ed says. “I have your colleague – Riza on the phone. She told me to say it was important.”

Roy's whole body gets tense really fast. “Put me on the call,” he says, his tone dry, his voice rushed.

The next voice he hears is Riza's. “Hi, Roy.”

This is bad. _Roy_ instead of _Sir_ or _Colonel_ or _Mr. Mustang_ is bad. “What's happening?” he asks directly.

“It's Maes,” Riza says, and Roy's blood freezes in his veins. “It's – Gracia and Elicia, actually. They had an accident.” Roy is paralyzed. “A car ran into them. We're in the hospital right now – they said they were trying everything they could do. We can't see them for now – not even Maes.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Roy says when he finally speaks.

“Yeah,” Riza says. “Maes called me, and I came over, and now we're waiting for them to – come back and tell us, and I think he's going crazy, so I asked him if I could do anything, which was completely stupid, I guess, because the loves of his life are in a surgical suite and he doesn't even know if they're going to _survive –_ but he said 'call Roy'. So I said I'd try.”

“I'm glad you did,” Roy says.

“And I'm glad Edward answered,” Riza says. “I'll get him to come here. Hang on, alright?”

Roy does. He goes outside, waiting for a noise, something to fill the void. Nothing comes but the sound of his own footsteps.

“Roy?”

He stops. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, pal.”

That's all Maes needs to collapse. “God, Roy,” he says. “I don't know what to do.”

“Nothing,” Roy says. “It's unfair, and hard, and I hate this, but there's nothing you can do. You just have to wait for these people to do their job and be brave.”

“I don't know if I can be without them,” Maes cries. “I don't know if I can ever be strong and brave.”

Maes keeps a Polaroid picture of their family in his wallet, shows it to anyone he meets. He would brag about how beautiful his wife is, how big Elicia's gotten. He would carry some drawings around, sometimes, and would tell anyone about his daughter having just learned what a giraffe was, about how she decided it was her favourite animal by now, how she wouldn't draw anything else.  
It would be the world's worse tragedy if he ever had to explain that his family was dead, instead of that.

“You won't have to,” Roy says. “Because they're going to live, Maes. They're going to save them, and then when they're stable, they're going to let you in this room. You're going to kiss your daughter, tell your wife you love her, and never let them go.”

“What if they don't? Elicia's known me for a few months, I wasn't even there when she was born – I was too busy fucking _killing people_ to be a father, what if I don't even get to –”

“They _will_ ,” Roy says. “They're strong. You know they are. Remember the letter Gracia had sent you, back in Ishval? She told you that she always told Elicia stories about you, since she was born, so she'd know she'd had a father. And that time, Elicia had asked how much time it had been that you were gone. When Gracia told her it was a little bit before she was born, Elicia had told her she was very strong, and very brave. She was, what, three years old?”

“She's always been a smart kid,” Maes said. “She got that from her mother.”

“And then Gracia told her it was worth waiting, because you were worth being strong for. And Elicia told her –”

“'I'm gonna be strong too, so when dad comes back, he'll be proud of me,'” Maes finishes.

“Yes,” Roy says. “They're brave. They've always been. They aren't going to stop now. This time, it's you waiting, and it's them coming back to you. Alright?”

Maes sobs. “Alright,” he says, his voice trembling. “I have to be strong for them, now right?”

“Exactly,” Roy says.

A silence follows, and Roy looks at the sky. It's still dark, but behind the trees, he can see the light rising.

“When they wake up,” Roy says, “tell Elicia to never scare her uncle Roy like that again.”

Maes is still crying, and it's not stopping any soon, but he chuckles. “I'll do that,” he says, and then he's gone.

“It's me again,” Riza says. “Thank you.”

“No,” Roy says. “Thank you for calling. Can you ring me back when you know something?”

“Of course,” Riza says. “Goodbye, Roy,” she says, and then she hangs up.

 

*

 

Roy watches the sun rise. Hours later, Riza calls him to tell him Maes is in the room with Gracia and Elicia, both alive and breathing, and that Elicia said she was very proud that she managed so scare Uncle Roy, but she promises to never do it again.

Roy smiles.

 

*

**DAY 33**

 

Roy wakes up hearing screams and gunshots, blinded by dirt and smoke, his skin burning, his head aching. He wakes up with blood on his hands, his eyes widened and his breath short.

It takes a good five minutes before he manages to slow it down.

There's no sun, no smoke, no screams – there's the night and the wooden walls of the cabin and silence. There's no sand sticking to his boots because of the blood, not even boots to his feet. And there's no fire – his skin is boiling and he's sweating, but there's no fire, only bad dreams, his own mind tricking him into memories from the worst years he's ever had to live.

Roy runs a hand through his hair to chase it away from his forehead. It's sticking.

He gets up.

It's been a while he's emptied the Yamazaki bottle, now, but the first supply box came with some cheap red wine and a mini bottle of Philadelphia he hasn't opened yet, and maybe it's time to – or maybe it's time to get himself together and stop doing that at all, but he can't. He isn't like Maes and his family, he isn't like Riza. Roy's never been able to find the strength alone, and he's never been able to reach out –

This is all he has.

He goes for the wine, because whiskey's too harsh just after waking up, even for him. Just a few sips. Just a few sips, and it'll be ok. Maybe he could use some fresh air. Maybe he'll be able to sleep again after that.

“You're awake?”

Roy turns his head towards the radio. He realizes he turned on the lights.

He shuts them off, takes the radio and the bottle with him, and gets out.

“Hey, sorry,” Ed says. “I didn't mean to bother you. It's just – I wanted to know if everything was alright.”

Roy sits down. There's a quiet wind – maybe he should have gotten a blanket, because his hair is wet and he's got sweat all over his bare chest, but right now, the gentle breeze is a refreshing wash to his burning face, and maybe he'll catch a cold, but it would have been worth it. “Sorry,” he says in the radio. “I just got outside – shut off the lights for mosquitoes.”

“Oh,” Ed says. “Alright.”

Roy opens the bottle. “You weren't bothering,” he says.

“'kay,” Ed says. “Are you – alright?”

“Yes,” Roy says. He takes a sip. “Bad dreams,” he says.

“Oh,” Ed says again. Every time he goes quiet is a weird hole in his usual noisy personality. He's got this thing for sassing people – or just Roy, for all that he knows – and cursing a lot and speaking using sarcasm only for hours just for the sake of it, but sometimes, he cools down. Sometimes, his tone softens enough that it's almost a whisper.

“You?” Roy asks.

There's a silence – a hesitation? “Bad dreams,” Ed finally says.

Roy opens the bottle. The wine tastes sour and bitter and better than it should. He hates that it feels relieving, hates that it tastes like safety and freshness and breathing again.

“Wanna – talk about it?” Ed asks. Hesitation, again.

He never talks with Riza, when she catches him shaking in his sleep, at the office, during a nightmare. She never asks. She juststouches his shoulder as gently and as firmly – that's a thing of hers – as she can, whispering _hey, Colonel, it's time to wake up_ , and when he does, out of breath and wide-eyed and delirious, he holds him by each side of his face, looking into his eyes, saying _it's me, we're in Central, everyone's safe_. Then Roy begins to breathe again, she gives him a last concerned look, and they get back to work.

But he isn't at work, and it's late and it's the summer and it's the middle of nowhere.

Roy takes a sip, then the radio. “I – you know about it,” he says. “I was in Ishval,” he says. “That's all.” And that's all that he can say. He can't say _I killed people, and everytime I close my eyes, I see fire burning their skin off their faces_.

But Ed knows that. He knows. “Yeah,” Ed says. “That's – that's hard,” he says. “I'm sorry you had to go through this.”

A dry laugh escapes Roy's mouth, and then he's empty again. “I'm not the one you should be sorry for,” he says.

“I know,” Ed says.

He knows.

 

*

 

**DAY 41**

 

They make a habit of talking during the night, when they happen to be awake at the same time. Roy wakes up, calms down, then looks through the window. If Ed's lights are lit, he lights his too, waits for him to talk, and then shuts them off again before getting outside with a bottle in his hand. Bad habits are slightly less bad habits when you have someone to talk to.

“Hey, night owl,” Ed says. His voice is sleepy – he must have woken up not long ago.

Roy wonders if Ed's bad dreams wake him up more often than him – every time Roy jolts awake, every time he looks through the window, the lights are lit, and Ed calls him on the radio.

Roy wonders if Ed ever sleeps. Sometimes he keeps the sass up, spits and barks and swears and laughs, and sometimes he sounds like he's been through too many long nights to stand up.

Roy wonders who Ed is, wonder if he'll ever knows, wonder if he's allowed to give it a shot.

“Hey,” he says as he shuts off the light – Ed doesn't. The lights are always lit, at least the time they're talking. “I was wondering...” Roy opens the bottle. “What do you look like?”

He hears a chuckle at the end of the line. “Why are you asking that now?”

 _Because you've read papers and you've seen the news and you've heard people talk about me, and I know nothing about you, because if I can know a little bit about the only voice that's keeping me sane in these woods, then it would feel real_ . “I don't know,” Roys answers. “You know how _I_ look, so I get to know how _you_ look.” He takes a sip. “It's like alchemy,” he says. “Equivalent exchange.”

Ed laughs again. “Ah, yes, talk dirty to me,” he says. “You're really starting to know me, huh?”

 _I wish_. “So,” Roy says. “What do you look like?”

“Well,” Ed says. “I don't have any picture to send you and fortunately, _my_ face isn't in the tabloids, and describing myself would be awkward as _fuck_. So I suggest you ask questions, and I tell you yes or no. Does that work for you?”

Roy smiles. “Looks like a deal,” he says. He would have drawn a portrait if he had any skills. When he was a kid, Chris had gifted him a colouring pencils box – he had worn them until they couldn't even be held anymore, drawing imaginary cities, and dragons, and knights. He gave up at the age of twelve, and in Military School, when Maes had asked him to draw what his dream wife would look like; he'd been able to produce nothing but a stick figure.

“Hit me, then,” Ed says.

“Alright,” Roy says. “Is your hair – blonde?”

“Good pick,” Ed says. “I'm impressed.”

“And your eyes blue?”

“Nope. That one's harder. I'm not sure you'll find.”

Roy takes another sip. “What?” he asks. “Are your eyes like – purple, or silver, like in cheesy romance novels?”

“I wish you were wrong,” Ed sighs. “Even if they aren't purple, nor silver. But that's definitely something like that.”

“Gold, then?” Roy asks.

“Good,” Ed says. “You're good at this.”

“I wonder why no one wrote actual cheesy romance novels about you,” Roy says. “ _Edward was stunning, with his hair as golden as his eyes. He leaned in and slowly brushed my hair off my face, the honey in his irises meeting the ocean in mine –_ ”

“You stop that or I get you fired,” Ed barks.

“It's not me,” Roy protests. “It's Intern Jeanine. She likes to think she's a writer during her free time.”

“It's never stupid to hope, I guess,” Ed says.

“Right,” Roy says. “I think we should get to the most important question.”

“And which one is that?”

Roy smirks. “What are you wearing?”

And Ed laughs. “Stay in your lane, Mustang,” he says. “I can only respond by yes or no, remember?”

Later, Roy closes his eyes and tries to imagine how Ed's features look like.

It doesn't lead to anything, but he still falls asleep.

 

*

 

**DAY 48**

 

“Hey,” Ed says. “You never told me your dad was an actor! That's fucking cool.”

He's outside, his back against the cabin walls. “You're reading tabloids again?” Roy says. “It's the middle of the night, Edward. I think you may have an addiction.”

“Not a tabloid,” Ed says. “A very serious article, I must say. _The Life of the Hero of Ishval_.”

“Oh, boy,” Roy says.

“Your mama was from Xing?” Ed asks.

“My grandmother, actually,” Roy says. “My grandfather was Amestrian. Which makes my mother half-Xingese, and makes me a quarter, I guess.” He makes a pause. “What about you? You never tell me anything about you.”

“Hey, I told you what I looked like”, Ed protests. “And my parents are gone. The old fucker left when I was four, and my mother died when I was eight.”

 _Shit_. “Oh,” Roy says. “I'm sorry.”

“It's ok,” Ed says. “I mean, it was a long time ago. I don't miss my dad anymore – guess I spent too much time hating him for leaving us and never coming back, even when mom was sick. Her, I still miss her, sometimes.”

“I can imagine.”

“I tried to bring her back when I was ten.”

Roy chokes. “ _What_?”

“Yeah, em – human transmutation,” Ed says, like it's the most normal thing ever. “Ever heard of it?”

Roy doesn't like where this is going. “Yes,” he says.

“We tried that with my brother Al,” he says. “We were kids, and we wanted to see our mom. Anyway, whatever was on the other side took a leg to me, and his entire body to Al. Managed to keep his soul tied to an armor that was lying there – I still hate my old man, but if I ever see him again, I'll have to thank him for collecting fucking armors in the cave.” Ed pauses. “I lost an arm in the process. And then it was over.” And it's fucked up that children have to run for their lives while having done nothing wrong, it's fucked up that others break their own lives into pieces because they miss their mother. Roy wonders when the world went all wrong, but the answer would probably be that it always was.

“It didn't work, by the way,” Ed says. “They don't tell you that, in the books. They just say it's forbidden, which is stupid, because of course everyone's gonna try anyway even if it's illegal. They don't tell you it's a fucking urban legend, in the books, that it never, never works, can't work. You can't bring back the dead. There was something, in the middle of the array, after all that shit, but it wasn't our mom. I checked, years later – the hair color was wrong and the height didn't match. It looked like someone who had heard about human beings but never seen one had tried to recreate what he knew. The thing didn't stay alive very long, anyway – it breathed two times, reached for us, and then died.”

“My god, Ed,” Roy says, and how can Ed be so calm about it? How can he talk about this like it's nothing?

“We're alright now,” Ed says. “It was a long time ago – we spent years searching for a way to bring Al's body back, looking in the wrong directions before finally finding out that the solution was right in front of our eyes this whole time, and now I can't use alchemy anymore, but I got my brother back in one piece.”

“I'm not sure I'm follow you,” Roy says, “but I'm glad you succeeded.”

“He's fine now,” Ed continues. “He's studying in Xing. I spent three months there with him – didn't know what I was gonna do at the time. Spent so many years with one single purpose leading my life that it was hard imagining going on without – that. I hadn't thought about it, not a single second. And I wasn't even really – _enjoying_ Xing. I visited a lot, sure, tried to learn about the country, but in the end I was just really bored because – I needed a purpose, you know? So, one day, Al, who knows me way better than I know myself, the little fucker, told me to sit and listen to him, and I did. Not that I could argue – I had my mouth full of fried chicken, couldn't even formulate a sentence. So he told me, ' _Brother, you can't keep spending your whole life thinking about my well-being and not yours_ '. So I told him I trusted him to take care of himself, and the only reason I had followed him in Xing was that I didn't have any plans, and he said that that was precisely the point, because I never had made plans for myself, and myself only.”

“He seems like a good person,” Roy observes.

“He's the best,” Ed confirms. “Anyway, he kicked my ass back to Amestris, and I eventually figured what I should do. Had to break up with the guy I was dating in Xing, too.”

“Wasn't that too hard?”

“Oh, no. Not really. We weren't meant to last – I mean, I was going to come back here at some point, right. And it wasn't like in romantic comedies – he didn't chase after me at the airport to keep me from leaving, didn't suddenly decide that I was worth giving everything else up to come and live with me. He had this thing for this girl he knew anyway – we had fun, but it was nothing serious. _Dating_ is a too strong word, to be honest.”

Roy grins. “Funny,” he says. “That's how a lot of romantic comedies begin.”

“Yeah, except you have to be in _love_ for something to be _romantic_ ,” Ed says, “which I wasn't. Liked the guy enough to be his friend or a little bit more, but that's all.”

“Aw, what a shame,” Roy sighs. “All the cheesy potential. Gone.”

“What about you?” Ed says, his voice _grinning._ “They keep saying that you're a seductor,” he says. “What do you say?”

“I say that you shouldn't believe everything they say in magazines,” Roy says.

Ed laughs. “Of course I don't, moron, I'm not naive, that's why I ask you,” he says. “So, no lady then?”

“Nothing serious, I fear,” Roy says. Nothing at all for the last few years, if he were to be honest.

“No dude either?”

Roy freezes. “No,” he says after a while. _Nothing at all for the last few years_.

“You can – tell me, you know,” Ed says. “If you're. You know. Gay.”

Roy says nothing.

“I mean, I basically told you that I dated a guy,” Ed says. “And that was not the only time. Since I – fancy guys, and shit. So I would be in a bad place to judge you.”

Roy stays silent for a while. He doesn't know why.

“And I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of,” Ed says. “Not gonna – sell this information to the press. Even if I wanted to, nobody would believe me, and I don't.” Silence. “You know what? Just tell me to fuck off. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry.”

“I am,” Roy says after a while. “I just – never told anyone. Besides Riza. And the men I've been with, of course, and – my aunt Chris, because she caught me once. Besides them, no one.”

It takes a while for Ed to answer. “Nobody can blame you for that,” he says. “That country – that world – makes it pretty hard for us. And you're like – famous, so.”

“Yeah.”

“Did it go alright with your aunt?”

Roy laughs. “Surprisingly, yes,” he says. “I mean, at the time, I thought she was the strictest person in the universe, and that she would despise me for that, but now, I realize that she could never hate anyone for something as unimportant as that.”

“She seems cool,” Ed says. “What happened?”

“I had brought that – boyfriend of mine, I guess we could call him that – home. For homework.”

“Ah, the good ol' homework excuse.”

“To my defense, we really were going to do our homework. And don't get too excited, because we only kissed. Turns out Chris chose that moment to break into my room. The woman has never knocked on a door, I think.”

“Oh my god.”

“Anyway, Dave – that was the guy's name, he just – ran away by the window. And then Chris gave me the Talk, told me to finish my goddamn homework, and that was it.”

“I fucking love your aunt.”

A few seconds pass. Then Roy says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Ed sounds surprised.

“Talking to me, I guess,” Roy says. “You're – nice to talk to.”

“Aw, don't be smooth with me, Colonel Handsome,” he says. “I'm going to get the idea that you're falling in love with me.”

Something tightens in Roy's chest.

“Don't dream too much,” he says.

He ignores it.

 

*

 

**DAY 56**

 

That day, Roy gets at the edge of the ravine and asks Ed where the wire crossing it goes.

“Leads to my sector,” Ed answers.

“I could come over, sometime,” Roy offers.

“It's locked up,” Ed says. “Emergencies only. I've never actually used it.”

The woods at the other side are too dense, and the trees are to close and tall for Roy to see Ed's tower, but still – this is the closer he's ever been to where he is. “Oh, God, help!” Roy exaggeratedly shouts into the radio. “It's an emergency!”

“Oh, really?” Ed asks. “Like, a life or death emergency?”

“Yes!” Roy exclaims. “There's a storm approaching, I need to get out of here right now or it will take me!”

“Mh... Nah, guess you'll die. Too bad.”

Roy sighs. “Rude,” he whines.

Roy looks at the other side of the ravine for maybe one minute or two. Somewhere, in his tower, silent in the trees, Ed is watching the forest. Sometimes he takes a book and reads it all at once, sometimes he takes a piece of paper and doodles what comes to his mind.

And Roy isn't there to see that.

Roy turns around. He starts walking again.

 

*

 

**DAY 64**

 

It's another deep, deep night. This time, there's a patch of bright orange in the dark blue, and even from the tower, you can smell the sense of smoke.

Roy doesn't know if it's beautiful or terrible. The sight of a fire is a little bit hard to bear when you've seen it destroy so much, especially when it came from your own hands. And Roy took this job – that was kind of the deal, that there could be fire. He's been through it more than once, made his way through the flames and got out without a burn on his skin. That's not the problem.

The problem is that nobody else did.

Lucky for him, there's not a human soul in these woods.

“You've got a front row seat for what might be the biggest fire of the year,” Ed says.

“I can see that,” Roy says.

“So, what are we gonna call it?” Ed asks, a little bit too enthusiastic. “It doesn't have a name yet. Why won't you do the honors?”

Roy thinks for a moment. “Edward,” he says.

“Yes?”

“No, no,” Roy says. “I think we should call it Edward.”

“You big moron,” Edward chuckles.

“I thought it would be accurate, since you've already spread a fire in my heart,” Roy says in the cheesiest version of his own voice he can manage.

“I'm firing you,” Ed says. Then he stops. “Don't you dare point out that pun. Don't. You. Dare.”

“Fine, fine,” Roy says.

“Seriously, we can't call it the _Edward Fire_. Find something else.”

“Alright.” He pauses. “The _Alphonse Fire_?”

He can practically hear Ed's smile – he would give a lot to see it in person, right now. “Now we're talking,” he says. “I'm gonna tell him next time he calls. He's gonna be so embarrassed.”

Roy doesn't know how much time he spends grinning like a goddamn idiot.

“Are you looking at the fire right now?” Ed asks.

“I am,” Roy says, and he is.

And really, the bad experience apart, Roy can't deny it – the view is stunning.

“I'm glad you're here,” Ed says, his voice descending to a softer tone.

“Are you?” Roy teases.

“You bet I am,” Ed says. “It's boring as fuck here; I would go crazy if I couldn't talk to anyone.” Roy can believe that for sure. “Plus, you're not the worst person to talk to,” Ed says. “And I – like you.”

Roy watches the fire.

“I like you too,” he says.

That night, he feels just a little bit warmer.

 

*

 

**DAY 76**

 

The sun is high in the sky, and it was a bad idea to get out now in the first place, but Roy needed some fresh air – as fresh as the burning, heavy summer air can be.

Roy stretches. “Still can't believe you get your supplies hand-delivered and I have to hike,” he says.

Ed laughs, because he's a little shit. Roy's used to that, now. “Come back next summer and they may be kind to you,” Ed says. “I think they have pity for me – a twenty-something wasting his summer lost in the woods instead of like, going for drinks with his friends. That's sad.”

“Because you have friends?” Roy teases.

“Oh, shut up,” Ed says. “You're not better than me.”

“I never said I was,” Roy says.

There's smoke in the air. Roy can see the source of it not too far. “They're still not shutting the Alphonse Fire off?” Roy asks. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Don't know,” Ed says. “They just told me they would make sure everything went alright, but I know nothing else.”

“That's vague,” Roy says.

Right after he's collected the supplies, Roy notices a rock with a radio and a clipboard on it. Roy grabs it.

His eyes widen.

“Holy fuck,” he says.

“That's unusual, you swearing,” Ed says, teasing. “And rather hot, I must say.”

“I found something really weird,” Roy says.

His voice must sound like he's just seen a goddamn ghost, because that gets Ed to stop joking around. “What happened?” he asks, his tone serious.

“There's a clipboard,” Roy says, “with everything we've said to each other in – a while.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“ _It's boring as fuck here,_ ” Roy reads, “ _I would go crazy if I couldn't talk to anyone, plus, you're not the worst person to talk to and I like you._ ” Roy keeps reading in his head. Under that line, there's his own _I like you too_ just next to a _R._ The clip has “Laboratory Five” written on it.

“Fucking hell,” Ed says. “You haven't eaten any funny mushrooms, didn't you? Because if you're starting to see weird shit you're getting back to the tower right now, and if you're just making fun of me I swear I'm gonna get down there and murder you.”

“I'm not high!” Roy exclaims. “And I'm not messing with you – who would find that fu –”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because he gets hit in the head.

 

*

 

“Roy?”

The voice's blurry.

“Roy? Are you there? What the fuck happened?”

He feels like he's been rolled over by a truck. Christ, his head hurts.

“Roy!”

He gets up, and looks down. The radio's at his feet.

“I just – someone just hit me,” he says. “In the head,” he adds. “With a – rock, I think? I don't know, I didn't see –”

“Seriously? What the fuck's happening out there?!”

Roy carefully slips his hand behind his head – _ouch,_ slowly runs it through his hair and brings it back in front of him. No blood. “I don't know,” he says.

“Ok, let's recapitulate,” Ed says, getting himself back together. “You found a clipboard with transcripts of our conversations. Is there anything else in it?”

Roy looks around. The clipboard is gone, as well as the radio. “It's not there anymore,” he says. “They must have run away.” He pauses. “What's Laboratory Five?”

“What?”

“Laboratory Five,” Roy repeats. “It was on the clipboard. Looks like the thing was from there.”

“That's weird,” Ed says. “No one's been there for years. It's an old – well, laboratory, but they made it a controlling station a decade ago – they kept the name for some reason. But like I said, it's abandoned now.”

Roy gets his backpack off his bag, then his map out of the backpack. “There was a _laboratory_ here?” he asks. He tries to open the map the best he can with only one shaking hand, then puts the radio to the ground and manages to get the thing unfold.

“Yeah,” Ed says. “From what I've heard, the military put it here because it was too risky – whatever that means – to have it in town, or even anywhere inhabited. But maybe that's just rumors – I don't know. You're a soldier, don't you know better than me?”

Roy takes the radio back. “Trust me,” he says. “There are lots of things they don't tell us.” He looks at the map. Laboratory five isn't too far from where he is – he's even hiked somewhere not too far one day.

“Maybe you should go take a look over there,” Ed says. “It's not too far from where you are.”

“I just checked that, yes,” Roy says. “I was thinking the same thing.” Then he folds the map, puts it in his pocket, gets the bag, and gets up.

“You're – you're sure you're not high?” Ed asks.

“You ask that one more time and I might lose my patience,” Roy says as he starts walking. His tone is calm, and he scares himself, sometimes, the way he manages to stay so cold.

“I'm fucking serious, Roy,” Ed says – and that's the voice he uses as a warning, the that surprised Roy a few times because it would come right after a pleasant exchange, and he would sit there wondering what he said wrong. This time, it doesn't come after a pleasant exchange, and, he can give Edward that, there are reasons to question Roy's lucidity, because this whole situation is fucked up. “Are you sure you saw what you saw? Because it could be anything – it could be these little fuckers that think you destroyed their camp weeks ago, it could be other campers you pissed off, I don't fucking know.”

“It was _our words_ , with _our initials_ , Ed,” Roy says. “E for Edward and R for Roy, clear as day.”

“I – I believe you, ok?” Ed's voice is trembling a bit, but it stops soon. “It's just – this is so fucked up. And this conversation was from two weeks ago.”

“I know,” Roy says. “This could have been going on for more than two weeks, maybe three, four, or the whole summer. Someone's there with a walkie talkie, listening to us and taking notes God knows why.”

“Ok, we can't freak out,” Ed says. “There must be an explanation, there always fucking is –”

Roy starts to hear everything Ed has said to him and everything he has said to Ed, everything that was close to flirting at the beginning, and was way more explicit towards the end. Something is clenching in his ribcage and he must stay _calm_ , for God's sake – he's been through way worse than that, a freak listening to his conversations is _nothing_ –

“There must be, yes, but I fear that whatever it is, we're not going to like it,” he says. “It wouldn't lead us to anything to start making conclusions now. I'm just going there and we'll see what I find, alright?”

“Yeah,” Ed says – sighs, almost. “Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna make a few calls and see if anything weird happened to anyone else, I'll keep you in touch.”

“Alright,” Roy says.

“Alright,” Ed says. “Stay safe,” he says.

 

*

 

It takes even less time than Roy expected to get to Laboratory Five. He follows the wire rack until he gets to the entry – there are several _NO TRESPASSING_ signs, including one on the gate.

“I'm here,” he tells Ed. “It looks like a damn fortress.”

“They kept the whole secret lab aesthetic, apparently,” Ed says. “Fuck knows what they used to do in there.”

There's a lock on the gate, of course. “It's locked,” Roy says.

“Shit,” Ed says. “Of course it is.”

“So, what do I do?” Roy asks.

“Wait,” Ed says.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, a minute maybe. Roy waits.

“Is there anybody around?” Ed asks after a while. “Do you see anyone?”

Roy looks around. “I'm alone,” he says.

“Alright,” Ed says. “Take a look at that.”

There's a buzzing sound, and on the top of it, the sound of someone coughing. Roy freezes.

“Did you just cough?” Ed asks, voice low.

“No,” Roy says – he'd be whispering if it wasn't for the radio and Ed having to hear him clearly. “Did you?”

“No,” Ed says. “Fuck.”

Roy's heart is pounding. “Is there any way another lookout could be on this line?”

“Not without tapping our radios,” Ed says.

They don't say anything to each other for another minute. Roy stands there, waiting.

“Go back to your tower,” Ed says. “Don't call me, wait for me to do it. I'll call tomorrow. Don't use your radio. Understood?”

“Understood,” Roy says.

“Alright. Go back now.”

Roy goes back.

 

*

 

**DAY 77**

 

Around six in the evening, Ed finally calls him and leads him to a creek near the lake. When Roy opens the supply box here, he finds another radio – slightly bigger, and a different color, a kind of military green.

“I've got it,” Roy says. “The radio.”

“Good, _finally,_ ” Ed says. “I spent all day getting you that thing.”

It crosses Roy's mind that they could have met, that it could have been _something_ , but he chases the thought – there's a time and a place, for fuck's sake, and for now they have to be careful –

“I lied to three rangers,” Ed says. “Straight to their faces. But now you have a radio that's not tapped.”

“Yes,” Roy says. “Thanks.”

“Holy fucking shit, Roy,” Ed says. He's back to his usual noisy self now that nobody's listening anymore – he had been weirdly calm and vague since he had called Roy. “You have to break into that fucking station.”

“The Laboratory Five?”

“Yes,” Ed says. “Get there and find what's going on. You have something to cut the lock?”

“I'm afraid there isn't any object in that tower that could have done the job, no,” Roy says. “It's alright, I'll climb the fence.”

“Good plan,” Ed says.

They don't talk while Roy is walking, and Roy does as he's always done when a crisis occurs – he keeps calm. In surface, at least. He deliberately keeps his breathing to a slow pace, speaks with a collected tone when he has to, and does what needs to be done. When all of this is over, he's going to collapse somewhere no one can see him – and hopefully, no one can in these woods, unless the people that are listening are also watching with goggles. With a little bit of luck, all of this is just a big, stupid joke, and they'll laugh about it tomorrow morning.

“I'm there,” Roy tells Ed when he gets to the fence again. “I'm climbing, alright? I tell you when I'm on the other side.”

“Right,” Ed says. “Don't break your legs.”

Roy would have joked, if this wasn't now, he would have said something like _don't underestimate the skills of Colonel Handsome_ , but Ed wouldn't laugh, and he wouldn't either. He attaches the radio to his belt, tightens the backpack around his shoulders and gets to work. He's done this in military school, and it was a while ago, but it still comes easily. It would have been even easier if he had something to cut the wires, to make a hole in the fence and cross it – the bag feels heavy on his bag, full of cans and boxes, and he can't even throw it on the other side because the bottles would break.

“I'm thinking about the Tuckers,” Ed says. Roy's on the top of the fence, his radio still at his belt. “I'm thinking – maybe something shitty happened to them last summer, maybe these people were already there – they just – disappeared, and –”

Roy gets down. When he's finally on the ground, his fingers hurt. They have little lines on them. “They're probably fine,” Roy says when he's gotten his radio back in his hand. “I told you – Tucker was in a bad place last year, he probably just ran away with her daughter, signed her up in a new school and found a new job. Nina must be having fun on her summer break.”

“Yeah – yeah, you're right,” Ed says. “You're already there?”

“Yes,” Roy says as he starts walking.

“Good,” Ed says. “What do you see?”

The station is huge, and it takes a walk in there to see anything, really, but when he does see something, Roy is standing in front of a big monitoring tower. “Some serious communication equipment. Wireless.” He looks around – maybe a little bit too late, shit, but he's alone, thanks God. “There's no one around.”

“Wireless?” Ed says. “What do you mean?”

“There's a huge transmission tower. They probably can listen to whatever they want with that, and from there, nobody sees them – not me, not you. Nobody.”

“Shit,” Ed says. “Fucking shit, Roy.”

There's more as he goes further. “There are wires on the floor,” he says. “And monitors – surveillance stuff, too. You wouldn't find that sort of equipment in your hardware store.” Roy turns around. “And there's – a tent.”

Ed doesn't waste a second to answer. “What is it like?”

“The light is on. All of their equipment is here despite the fact that there's no one. The desk is a mess, and some things fell on the floor – like someone left in a rush. There's also a wave receiver – which I'm going to take, just in case.” He looks up. “And there's a map – there are lines that look like the paths I've taken.”

“Fuck, are you sure that's you?”

“I think.”

“Why the _hell_ would they be after you?”

“I don't know, Ed.”

Roy looks down again. There only are blank pages on the desk, so maybe they've been put there in purpose to hide something under – Roy finds out he's right when he moves them away, because they're a folder with his name on it, as well as Ed's.

He sees a paper about him first, when he opens it.

_SUBJECT: EDWARD ELRIC_

_AGE: 24_

_PROGRAM STATUS REVIEW: 10 WEEKS_

_OBSERVATIONAL TRAITS:_

  * _CHEEKY_

  * _CHARISMATIC_

  * _SMART_

  * _SENSITIVE_

  * _IMPULSIVE_




_PERTINENT OBSERVED FACTS_

  * _ALCHEMIST_



  * _HAS A YOUNGER BROTHER_

  * _HAS OPERATED A HUMAN TRANSMUTATION_

  * _HOMOSEXUAL_

  * _NIGHTMARES_




_SUSCEPTIBILITY TO MANIPULATION: 3_

Roy's eyes move to the left page – his own file.

“Jesus fuck,” he says.

“What?” Ed hastens to answer. “What is it?”

“Stay calm,” Roy says. “You're not going to like it.”

“Then don't fucking tell me to stay calm,” Ed spits. “ _What is it_?”

Roy tears the papers off the folder. “There are files – about us. Name, age, and observations they have made. There are some things I haven't told you, too, holy shit –”

“We should just burn the fucking place down,” Ed says.

And Roy doesn't know if he says that because he knows who he's talking to, but Roy – could, yeah. Just take his gloves from his right pocket, put them on and snap his fingers, and everything would be gone. Everything including the whole woods, because the concept of a forest is that a fire spreads, and that's pretty much why they're here in the first place.

“That may not be the best idea,” Roy says. “We could have some problems. Or, just, you know – set this whole place on fire before someone can minimize the damage. The grass is completely dry; it would burn in a second.”

“You're – probably right,” Ed says. “And I hate it, because I'm so fucking _tired_ of that bullshit.”

Roy breathes. “Look, I'm going to head down the tower. I have the wave receiver. We'll figure out what to do. Alright?”

Ed takes a while to answer, this time. “Alright,” he says.

And Roy goes back to hiking. It's hard to breathe, hard to keep the pace slow, but he must manage that – that's how he's always done it, that's how he's survived, that's how he walked through his own fire, killing people, and managed not to let himself die. Maybe he should have, now that he thinks about it.

And Christ – it's not even about people knowing the truth about him not being into women. If there's a possibility he loses his job because of it, that's fine – he'll find something that doesn't involve murder and post-traumatic nightmares. Although he's too popular for the military to afford losing him – they'd probably just bury the information and make it pass as fake. Either way, that's not a problem. It's just – being watched, being listened, not having any moment of his own. All the conversations he's had with Edward, all the secrets, all the seconds he tried to file in his mind to remember them, later, to cherish them, they're not his.

“Hm, Roy?” Ed says.

Roy grabs the radio. “Yes?”

“What the fuck happened to this _not being the best idea_?!”

“What?”

“Look the fuck around!”

There's some smoke coming from near the lake – just where he was, where the Laboratory Five is. Some smoke, and a big, red fire. “That wasn't me,” Roy says.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ed says. “What do we do?”

“Just – report it like any other fire,” Roy says. “I don't see what else to do.”

“Except get the fuck out,” Ed says.

“Yes,” Roy says. “That.”

Roy is keeping his way up to the tower when something starts beeping in his backpack – it's the wave receiver, he realizes when he opens it. He takes it in his hand, tries a few directions, and follows a path of bushes when the machine starts to beep faster towards it. At the end of it, the beeping sound almost becomes a continuous one, and Roy shuts the thing down. There's a backpack tied to a tree – yellow, big, similar to Nina Tucker's from a few weeks ago. When he ties it off, a much more violent and loud beeping begins, and it takes Roy one second or two to realize that's an alarm ringing – luckily, it takes only a few kicks for it to shut off.

There are only basics in the bag – mostly clothes and camping equipment, a pack of gums. But then Roy notices a key ring hanging from the side of it, with a little metal plate attached to it.

“You're getting there?” Ed asks.

“I was, almost,” Roy says. “But then this wave receiver started going crazy and I found a backpack, and, most importantly – some keys. It says _cave 452._ Have an idea of where that is?”

“That's – wait,” Ed says. “Ok, that's in the canyon right next to your tower. I don't know what's in it, though.”

“You think I should go?”

“I see you're back in your cabin – maybe just stop for a while? Sit down and – breathe. We'll figure out later, ok?”

Except Roy stops breathing. “I'm not in my tower,” he says.

“I'm looking at a man in your tower and it isn't you?”

“No.”

Apparently, Ed stops breathing too. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says. “Go.”

 

*

 

And it's a good thing Roy is just a few feet away of the tower – that means the bastard can't run, that means he's going to catch him. He gets his gloves out of his pockets as his running towards the tower, puts them on as his climbing the stairs. Just a precaution – not that he's actually intending to burn the man, but you never know, and someone that's probably been listening to all of your conversations and taking note may be hostile. Maybe.

But when he gets on the top, there's no one. No one on the outside or the inside – just no one.

“He's gone,” he tells Ed.

“But he was there!” Ed exclaims, his voice quaky. “I swear he was right there just one minute ago –”

“I believe you,” Roy tells him. “Alright? I believe you.” Even if he didn't, he would now, because he left a gift for him on the door. “Mr. Stalker left a cassette player taped to my door.”

“Well, listen to it,” Ed says.

Roy puts the headphones over his ears and presses the button. He hears a blurry version of Ed's voice, saying _we should just burn the fucking place down._ His own voice comes next. _The grass is completely dried, it would burn in a second_.

“It's a recording of us at the station,” Roy says. “And they – he, whatever – cut some parts to make it look like we set it on fire.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Wish I was.”

“We are fucked.” Roy can practically feel Ed's heavy breathing. Or maybe it's just his own.

“Don't freak out,” Roy says. “We'll figure it out.”

“We are _FUCKED,_ Roy!” Ed shouts. “What the fuck is happening?!”

Roy wishes he could answer that, but he can't.

 

*

 

**DAY 78**

 

Edward calls around noon.

“I'm gonna fucking puke,” Ed says. “Apparently, someone claiming to be Roy Mustang called a lookout in another sector this morning and told them I knew what had provoked the Laboratory Five fire.”

“God,” Roy sighs. This is never going to stop, is it? Or at least – stay like it is. It just has to become worse and worse.

“So the lookout in question called me to ask me what I know, and they seem to think I'm an arsonist, or just a fucking freak – either way, we're both in deep, deep shit, my boy, and I seriously think I'm going to throw up – plus, this fucking bastard must have a copy of the tape he left you, of fucking course, which means there is something that will look like a proof. And if –” Ed's breath is heavy, short, and he tries to collect it. Roy must keep calm, he must keep his own breath slow, he must – “If it's him, and I believe it is, that left that backpack you found yesterday, we need to find what he's hiding in that cave. 'Cause if it's him, he's doing all of this to keep us from putting something he doesn't want to be found under the lights.”

“You know he's probably listening right now, don't you?”

“I don't fucking care, Roy. You need to get down there.”

“I'm going right now.”

There's smoke everywhere when Roy gets out – either the Alphonse Fire or the Laboratory Five one or both melting, it's beginning to be really, literally hard to breathe.

He tries to make it to the cave as fast as he can – according to Ed, it's down the canyon, the one where he saw that man looking at him one of the first days, and now that he's thinking about it, that may be where it all began, right?

“You – You didn't actually make that call this morning, did you?” Ed asks. “I just – keep wondering if you just – lied to me. I don't know.”

“Of course I didn't,” Roy says. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, maybe to – make sure they don't accuse you, because it would be pretty fucking convenient from them to accuse the _Flame_ Alchemist, and since you've got _me_ – and that cassette making it sound like it was my idea... It would be – easy. For you to – do that.”

“I wouldn't do that.” Roy pauses. “Edward, I wouldn't do that. Ever. Alright? He's trying to rile us up against each other.”

Ed waits a little bit. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you're – you're right. I'm sorry.”

“That won't happen, alright?” Roy says. “We're going to stand together.”

“Yeah,” Ed says. “Thanks, Roy.”

Roy gets inside the cave – it looks very small, at first, but when he opens the gate, there's a hall that goes further, and a hole that seems to be miles deep. That's when he hears a bang – and when he turns around the door is closed. He goes back to it, key in his hand and tries to open it, but it doesn't move. There's no lock on his side, the only way to open the thing being to turn the key from the other side.

“Great,” he tells Ed. “Someone just locked me in.”

“ _What_?”

“They just – slammed the door and ran away, I guess.”

“It's frightening how calm you are, for a man who's stuck in a _fucking cave_.”

“I'm gonna find a way out.” _Or die here, maybe_. “But before –” Roy looks down. “There's a spot here where you could definitely climb down. It looks deep, but I have some climbing equipment in my backpack, so – I'm going to get there.”

“Are you sure it's – safe?” Ed asks.

“We're going to find out,” Roy says.

“Don't fucking say that,” Ed says.

Roy gets down.

 

*

 

The cave really is miles deep – maybe not _miles_ , but Roy keeps going down and down, not even needing to attach his equipment for most parts, just walking. For all that it's burning hot outside, it's freezing in here. Roy could find that refreshing, relieving even, if he wasn't so full of anxiety and pure fear. There could be anything, down there, and for all that he knows, he could be on his way to hell – there's not even a certitude that he's ever going to get out of this cave. There's light, sure, but the holes are not big enough for him to get out.

Hope comes back into his head when he sees a brighter source of light a little further – that's his way out, alright, now he's just got to find –

He looks down, and immediately puts a hand up his mouth.

There's a dead animal on the ground – or what's left of it, at least. It looks like a kind of dog, fur a light beige, and a sort of mane going from its head to its tail, the color different, a dark shade of brown. Around its neck, a brown collar – when Roy bends over, he can read _Alexander_ on a tiny golden medal. It's been there for God knows how much time – the poor thing is nothing but skin and hair remaining on its tiny, scrunched up body.

Roy grabs his radio to tell Ed about it, but there's no signal. He looks up, and braces himself to reach the exit. There are lots of rocks to climb and no way to attach himself, but he knows how to avoid falling and he knows how to fall too, how to keep himself from hitting the floor the wrong, dangerous way. He can do this. Step by step, rock by rock, he finally reaches the end, back in that odd medley of bright sky and grey smoke.

He takes the radio.

“Hey, Ed,” he says.

“There he fucking is,” Ed says. “I've been worrying my ass off.”

“I'm fine,” Roy says. “I found – something.”

“Oh, shit, what is it?”

“It's a – dead animal.” Roy inhales. “It was in an advanced state of decomposition, so it was hard to tell, but – I think it was a chimera. Looked like a dog, but not quite – a mane, bigger paws...”

“You think Shou Tucker could have created that chimera?”

“If it really is one, then... Yes, presumably.”

An idea, a very, truly terrible idea started forming in Roy's head from the moment he saw that creature, and it's growing now.

“He had to take this exam I told you about,” Roy says. “All he had to do was recreate a talking chimera, like the one he made when he was admitted as a state alchemist.”

“So you think he just – made this creature and killed it?” Edward asks.

“No,” Roy says. “It looked like it had fallen. It had probably seen the light from the exit I took and wanted to get out – maybe Tucker had been keeping it in that cave for a while. And it must have – slipped.”

“Shit,” Ed says. “Poor animal.”

The terrible idea keeps growing. And Roy hopes he's wrong. God, he hopes he's wrong.

“Edward,” Roy says. “Tucker never said how he made his chimera talk. The military let him keep his secret, because that's how they do things.” He pauses. “And everyone – everyone thought it was a miracle, but it's really easy, now that I think about it, and I've been dumb not to think about it before –”

“Roy,” Ed says. “What are you trying to –”

“The thing is,” Roy continues, “to create a chimera with a certain ability, you need to transmutate a being that _has_ this ability. Nobody ever found out Tucker's secret, everyone just thought he was a genius, but it's really easy, really. To make a chimera that can talk, you just need to transmutate anything with – something that can _talk_. _”_

A silence, and then, “Oh.”

“Edward,” Roy says, keeps saying. “What did Nina's dog look like?”

“No,” Ed says, and something breaks into his voice, and something breaks into Roy's ribs. “ _No,_ fuck, no –”

“It had a collar,” Roy says. “The chimera. It said _Alexander_.”

“Fuck,” Ed says, and he's almost crying but not quite. “You – you said it had some – hair, some extra hair, like a mane, like – human hair. What – what color was it?”

Roy sighs. He hates that this world exists. “Brown,” Roy says. “It – could be a coincidence, I don't know, but –”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Ed says again. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” He sobs. “It's – it's my fucking fault. If I had told someone she was there, this wouldn't have happened, I –”

“You couldn't know, Ed,” Roy says. “You couldn't know it would end up like this.”

“I just wanted her to have some fun,” Ed cries out. “I just wanted to – she kept telling me that her dad was working all the time and that he never took her out and that she got bored since her mom was dead because she had no one to play with but Alexander and – I didn't say anything, I let her stay here because she was so happy to see something else than her old house in her old city –”

“You couldn't know,” Roy repeats. “It's not your fault.”

“I couldn't even – save a little girl –” Ed stops himself, and then says nothing. Roy doesn't either, this time. He keeps walking. “I think we're leaving tomorrow,” Ed says. His voice is still broken. “Get back to your tower and pack your things. Get ready.”

Roy does. When he's on top, he watches the forest burn in a fire that he didn't provoke.

 

*

 

**DAY 79**

 

The smoke is so thick it's impossible to see anything from the tower – or from anywhere, probably. The whole forest is bathed in that grey-yellow light, and it would be beautiful if there wasn't smoke. It would be like Roy's first day, when he woke up at seven in the evening to the view of orange light invading his empty cabin. There wasn't any picture on the top of the table, then – not that there are a lot now. Roy collects the two single pictures and puts them in his bag, careful not to rumple them.

“Alright,” Ed says. “The Alphonse Fire and the Laboratory Five Fire joined in a fucking disaster. They say it's two percent contained.”

Roy takes the radio. “So the whole forest is going to burn?” Roy asks.

“Looks like it,” Ed says. His tone is bland, empty, tired. Ed probably didn't sleep at all tonight – Roy didn't either, not much more than one hour or two, but he didn't call, and Ed didn't either. They didn't talk.

“Do you want to – talk about it?” Roy asks.

Ed sighs. It's not annoyed, just – tired. “There's nothing to say,” Ed asks. “A little girl who did nothing wrong got merged to her dog to avoid her son of a bitch of a dad unemployment. There's nothing to say.” He pauses. “We still don't know where that motherfucker is,” he says. “Or if it even _is_ Tucker – for all that we know, the guy could have run away, and that man in the woods could be someone else.”

“But someone locked me in the cave,” Roy says. “That person clearly didn't want me to get out alive and tell someone about what I found. If not Tucker, who would want to keep a dead chimera a secret?”

“Yeah, okay, it's probably him,” Ed says. “That doesn't solve the problem. When I get out of there, they're going to put me in a room and ask me about the fire, and they'll find out that what I'm saying doesn't match the tape that says that I caused it, and I'll go to jail.”

That's when the wave receiver starts to beep. The sound is muffled from Roy's bag – he left it there, but it's under all of his clothes and equipment, and it takes him a while before he can get the thing out without spilling everything else on the floor. He pushes on the radio button. “Ed,” he says after a few beeps. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes,” Ed says. “Is that –”

“Yes,” Roy says. “I'm getting down there.”

“Take everything you need in case we get the call and you can't come back,” Ed says. “And – be safe, alright? I don't know – what's gonna happen.”

“Yeah, I don't either,” Roy says.

It isn't just the smoke – the goddamn thing gets some dirt to fly off the ground and it's barely impossible to see where he's going. The trees are creaking, and he can almost not hear the beeping sound either.

It doesn't get faster when Roy takes the path to the lake, but he can always get further and see if there's anything there. If he's lucky, it will be something like the keys, but bigger, something that will be a proof to be held in their favor, something that would say it was Tucker for this whole time – and if it wasn't, if they were wrong from the beginning, they'll finally know.

The beeping starts to go a little bit more faster when Roy reaches the slope that nearly had his back broken the first day he came here.

“They just called me,” Ed says. “They're coming to get us. My place. You'll have to cross the ravine.”

“Alright,” Roy says. “I'm getting closer to whatever is making that thing beep.”

“Hurry up, alright?” Ed says.

Roy gets down the slope – he always sees the rope breaking every time he takes it, something irrational. The receiver has kept the same pace when he's down there, keeps it for a while as he walks towards the lake. When it doesn't seem to give any results, Roy turns around, trying directions, before it finally gets faster. The beeping becomes constant when he reaches the bottom of a cliff. When Roy gets his head up, he sees his name on the rocks, written down with chalks, as well as an arrow pointing up – there's also rope that's been left for him to climb up the cliff, a tracking collar, and a tape.

“There's my name written on a rock,” he tells Ed. “They want me to climb that cliff. And to – listen to a tape.”

“Shit, Roy,” Ed says.

Roy takes the tape, takes the player from his bag, puts the headphones over his ears. He presses play.

“ _Hi, Colonel Mustang,_ ” a tired, tired voice says. “ _You – you better find that before everything burns. I know I've been causing you a lot of headaches – but you can't blame me for keeping an eye on you. Not with you wandering around, getting so close to that cave._ ”

Roy smells fire. He looks up.

He probably should start climbing.

“ _I'm gonna have to find another place that the one you're about to discover,_ ” the voice continues. “ _I stayed there for a year – it was beginning to get boring, without any stimulation, but at least Ed is fun. I get why Nina liked him._ ” The voice stops for a few seconds. “ _I need you to know that I did not kill my daughter, Colonel. I need you to believe me. You don't – you don't know what it's like, to be on the verge of failing, to watch your whole life crumble before your eyes. You never had to fight to prove yourself – everyone just worships you. I just – I wanted to keep a good life. For me, and – for her. I made her like that because it was the only way_.” Something in Roy's throat tightens. He's going to be sick. He keeps climbing. “ _She wasn't supposed to die. We were supposed to get back in Central, take that exam and – I would have given her a good life, I promise. She just – she tried to climb these goddamn rocks, in the cave, and she – fell. I couldn't do anything.”_

Roy is up the cliff, now. When he looks down, he sees nothing but dust and smoke.

“ _I couldn't tell anyone,_ ” Tucker continues. “ _I couldn't say that I had transmuted my daughter – they were going to arrest me. I was intending to go back to Central with her, pretend she had gotten attacked by a bear, win some time, wait a bit and then – take the exam and have a good life with her_.” It feels even more terrible to hear it than to assume, somehow. It feels terrible to hear a man trying to justify himself for playing with a little girl's life, pretending it was to make her happy.

“ _You won't find me,”_ Tucker says. “ _I'm leaving you this – I was never intending on causing either of you or Edward so much trouble._ ” A pause. “ _Good luck_ ,” Tucker says, and then the tape is over.

Roy looks around. He hasn't made a step since he reached the top of the cliff. When he does, he sees nothing similar to what Tucker talked about – no secret camp, no stash. He looks on the floor and sees no rests of food, no clothes, nothing. What he sees, though, is a big, square wooden board on the floor. When he puts it up, it happens to be a trapdoor, leading to a tunnel that he can't see the end of.

He suddenly remembers the radio at his belt. He should probably tell Edward about this.

“Alright,” he says. “It was Tucker. From the start. He was watching us because I got too close of the cave Nina was in, and he was scared I would find out.”

“Yeah, because he fucking _murdered_ his daughter,” Ed spits.

“He said she died falling from a pile of rocks,” Roy says. “Doesn't change what he did to her – he said he – did that to keep her safe, to keep them comfortable.”

“The _motherfucker_ ,” Ed says, in a tone that means _if they ever find him, I'm breaking into the prison and killing him myself_.

The little cave Tucker's made up is a comfortable place, for a cave. He even patched up some boards to build himself two tables. One's got a mug half full of coffee and a camping stove, and even a plastic plate with remains of breadcrumbs. The other table is covered in papers, a similar arrangement to the desk he found in the Laboratory Five.

“I just found a report,” Roy says. “About you. A copy of the one that I found at the station.”

“So it was him at the Lab Five too,” Ed says. “How's that even possible?”

Roy picks another sheet. This one has got handwritten notes and doodles. “He broke in,” he says, reading as he's talking. “Apparently, the staff is gone until mid-august. So he broke in and made all of this look like _they_ were watching us. He – freaked out.”

He folds the paper sheets and puts them in his pocket, just in case that could be useful when they start asking him and Ed what happened to the station, and starts observing some more. The cave gives to a hole in the cliff – Tucker set a camping chair there, as well as –

“He's got a radio base station up here,” Roy says. “That's how he was listening.”

“That's just – fucked up,” Ed says. “That's so fucked up.”

Roy goes back to the inside of the cave. Above the makeshift bed, there's a picture of Nina Tucker from a newspaper. What was written under it has been torn apart, but you can read half of the two first letters of the word _MISSING_. There's also a picture of her with Tucker and her wife – Tucker looks much more tired and thin without an uniform, although Roy always found him a little raggedy, even in a blue and gold coat. And then there's – drawings. Kid drawings, lots of them – one represents their family, including her mom and Alexander. Another is a snapshot of the view she had from the tower, Roy can recognize it. This kid was good. And then there's –

“Tucker has kept some drawings Nina has made,” Roy says. “There's one of you.”

“Oh,” Ed says. “She had – yeah, she had asked me to describe myself so she could draw me.”

The boy on the drawing has long yellow hair, hellow eyes, and a smile full of teeth. It says _my big brother Ed_. “I can – take it, if you want,” Roy says. “Or not. If it's too hard.”

“No, take it,” Ed says. “She is gonna burn, disappear – I don't want everything about her to disappear.”

Roy carefully folds the drawing and puts it in his pocket, too. “Alright,” he says.

“Now hurry up,” Ed says. “The fire is spreading. You're going to get barbecued if you don't get there soon.”

“Alright,” Roy says again.

He takes a last look at the cave, and he gets out.

 

*

 

“I keep thinking,” Ed says, “that if I had told the truth about her being here, she wouldn't be dead.”

Roy is going down the canyon. He has to squint to avoid getting too much dirt in them, and just to see something in general. “It was not your fault,” he says Ed. He hopes he could say something more, something that could actually help – but nothing can fix the death of a little girl.

“Yes, it was,” Ed says. “Wait – yeah. There's someone else, yeah. He's coming.” He pauses. “They just arrived with a helicopter. They're gonna go now but they're making rounds.” Pause again. “I think I'm gonna go now. They'll come back for you, alright? I told them you were still in there.”

Roy wants to tell him to stay. “Alright,” he says. “Call me when you're safe?”

“I – I will,” Ed says. “Good luck, Roy.”

 

*

 

Despite the smoke, Ed's tower is visible from there. Roy watches it as he gets inside the little cabin at his side of the wire that leads him to the other sector. The tower is empty, now – Ed is gone. They came for him, and when Roy will be there, they'll come back.

And if they don't come back, maybe it's good that way. Maybe it's what should happen. Him, eaten by flames, surrounded by peace and chaos – it would be ironic. And – right.

What a way to go.

 

*

 

When Roy reaches the tower, there's no helicopter yet.

Ed's tower is standing before him, high and big and empty. Roy looks around, and – if there's still time, maybe he can stay there. Maybe he can go inside. Not that he hopes to see anyone, but – maybe he can see how Ed used to live out there.

God, is he _that_ desperate?

He looks up and starts walking. It's not that much of a tower, actually – while his was a good fifty feet of stilts, this one is just a cabin built on a hill that's on a bigger hill itself. You have to climb rocks to get there, and it's only at the end of that path that there are actual wooden stairs, the same as the ones from his tower, but way shorter.

And alright, you really _can_ see from here. The view must be stunning – Roy remembers something about Ed telling him he could come and see, one of the first days. You can see nothing but smoke, now, and further, a fire that's going to burn every living and dead thing in these woods.

Something in Roy's throat tightens.

A forest shouldn't feel like home, right?

He turns around, heads himself towards the door. When he opens it, his eyes widen.

There's a young man sitting on the bed. He's got long blond hair tied in a ponytail, an metal arm, and eyes full of sorrow when he looks up to Roy. He's got his elbows on his knees and his bangs in his face, hiding some of the tears that are running down his cheeks, but not quite.

Ed – in the flesh, real, so hopelessly real – stands up when he fully realizes his presence. He wipes a tear off his face with his flesh hand and sniffs.

“You – you stayed,” Roy says, unable to move from the entry where he's standing.

Ed lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Yeah,” he says. “Silly me, huh?” And it's so weird to hear his voice for real.

Roy finally finds whatever he needs to move inside of him and takes a few steps towards the younger man.

“I wanted to, at first – I wanted to leave as soon as possible –” He stops. He's not looking into Roy's eyes. “I couldn't – leave you,” he says, almost a whisper.

Roy leads a hesitant hand to Ed's jaw, waiting for approbation. Ed takes his hand and presses it against his skin. He closes his eyes, his brows furrowed, and then opens them again, making another sniffing sound. “You look better in the flesh,” Ed says, a sad smile on his lips.

“You too,” Roy says, and Ed – laughs. It's true, though. Ed is quite different from what he had imagined – he's _better_. The image in Roy's mind was blurry, barely had a proper face. Ed is real, and he's beautiful.

“Come here,” Ed says, sliding his arms behind Roy's back. Roy is a little bit taller than him, and it's easy for him to just let his head rest against Ed's shoulder – his flesh is warm and scarred where it meets the automail port, and the metal itself feels not quite cold, but tepid. Roy closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Ed's waist.

They stay like this for a while. Roy tries to memorize every feeling, every sensation – the colder press of Ed's metal fingers on the nape of his neck, his hair brushing against Roy's skin where it meets his cheek, the smell of smoke of his shirt. In a few minutes, they'll go away, leaving all that happened here behind them – it's not like there's something more to miss, because their peaceful summer nights are gone, long gone, but everything is burning and Roy still doesn't want this to end.

Eventually, they call – Roy lets Ed go, lets him pick up the radio and tell them they're coming, and they leave the cabin. It's all blurry, when he follows Ed – he hears nothing but the loud sound of the helicopter propellers, sees nothing but smoke everywhere. He recalls someone helping him get on, and then sitting on an emergency bed.

His mind is still fuzzy when Ed speaks at his side.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Roy blinks. He looks at him.

“No,” he says. “Are you?”

Ed looks at the forest. “No,” he says.

“But we're going to be,” Roy says, more for himself than for Ed.

And then Ed looks at him. “Yeah,” he says.

He feels Ed's hand sliding against his.

When the helicopter flies off, they watch the whole forest burn, and their fingers are intertwined.

 


End file.
